Having Everything yet Nothing
by The Bitter Silence
Summary: Tony, emotions, and SHIELD have always had a complicated relationship, stemming from his mutation and nonexistent childhood. His story isn't a happy one, but it's the only one he's gonna get. IronWidow friendship, mentions of slash. Rating changed for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Tony didn't want to deal with this shitstorm. Yeah, he had Nat on his side, but there was only so much a superspy could do against years of ingrained prejudice and fear. In which Tony is a mutant and Really Really _Really_ Hates It. The capitals were on purpose.

Warnings: implied child abuse, emotional coercion/control, mentions of gay relationships, bisexuality

Chapter Summary: In which Black Widow and Iron Man become partners in crime. The rest of the world is understandably terrified. Or; a spider and a robot walk into a trap, and shit hits the fan.

* * *

_Having Everything Yet Nothing_

_i_

* * *

Empathy: the ability to sense, control, and manipulate emotions

It was something Anthony had always felt, in the back of his mind; swirling mixtures of emotions and attached colors flitting by, and if he could touch, he could manipulate and control them to almost any extent he wished. He worked with the brighter feelings the most – happiness, love, loyalty, trust – and stayed away from the dark, ominous colors of anger, fear, hate, and pain. Anthony loved the way he could make the sick smile and the panicked calm with a single touch.

Up until the month after his eighth birthday, empathy was a gift he mostly kept to himself and sometimes used to help others.

Anthony knew that his perception and control over emotions was unusual (he _was _a genius, he would notice if everyone could manipulate emotions as long as there was momentary skin-to-skin contact) but he didn't really understand just how unusual. Was it one of those one in a thousand genetic mutations? One in ten thousand? Dad would know, so with all the tact of an eight year-old, he asked, "Dad, I can sense emotions and control them. Is this one of those one in ten thousand genetic mutations you were talking about?"

Dad turned to him and stared silently for a long time. Then, he said, "Tell me more about this ability, Anthony."

And so he did.

After that, Dad started to bring him to the social events that he always complained bitterly about more often. Every time he gave Anthony the name and description of a person and occasionally multiple people, and said, "Make sure they trust me and Stark Industries."

Anthony knew that Dad was using him to make business easier. He didn't like it, but he could understand why. He had someone with the ability to control everyone's trust in Howard Stark and his business, and Dad was the kind of person who would seize any advantage he could. Anthony went along with it mostly because he couldn't see how it harmed anyone (except for the competition, but they were losing already, anyway) and he just wanted to make his father proud of him.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't force that feeling. Anthony had yet to figure out how to create an emotion from nothing. All he could do was expand and build upon the ones that were already there. There was no pretext for Dad being proud of Anthony, and he had to widen the thread of happiness within him to keep him from tearing up every time he thought of that.

One evening, as they were driving home, Anthony asked Dad quietly, "Is this really how I should be using this? Isn't it a gift or something, to be used for good?"

Dad rolled his eyes, and Anthony had to resist the temptation to flinch as he felt the irritation, disbelief, and disappointment well up behind his words, "It's not a gift. It's closer to a curse. It's a tool to be used and kept secret, because that tool? Is wrong and unnatural and immoral and untrustworthy. And until you can understand that, I will be controlling that tool, Anthony."

Anthony never mentioned it again.

* * *

Anthony was ten when Howard first taught him how to use a weapon. He was twelve when Howard first told him about SHIELD.

SHIELD was a worldwide organization funded, sponsored, and created by the U.N. to move against major threats to world peace and stability. In less polished, PR terms, they were an organization of spies and assassins that manipulated and killed to keep the body count as low as possible. Howard and Peggy Carter – the director of M16 – had founded it and were the current co-leaders.

Apparently Howard had decided that merely using Anthony's empathy for business was a waste. Not even a week later, Howard started bringing him to more politically active social events and had Anthony tell him when people were lying and when they were telling the truth.

At thirteen, Howard began to use him for interrogations. With a touch, he could reduce most people to a shivering, pathetic, terrified piece of flesh, easy and pliable. Sometimes the most highly-trained enemies were able to stand up to him, but everyone has a breaking point and after a few sessions with Anthony alternated with more traditional methods, all of them had broken except for the clinically insane.

When he was fifteen, just after he had entered MIT, Howard started sending him on active espionage missions. They were short, often only two or three days long, unless it was during breaks, which were completely filled with SHIELD business. The people at MIT just assumed he was either being a reckless teenager or going to events with his father. To be fair, sometimes his assignments did include those things.

It stung a little, though, that even Rhodey never noticed the slight limp after spring break or the way he favored his left arm a week later.

* * *

When Howard and Maria died in the plane crash, Tony didn't feel anything except for numb.

His mother, who had never been home and when she was, always told him how he could not be weak.

His father, who had never been proud of him and only wanted him for the mutation hidden in his genes.

Obi was there, suddenly, with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Tony had never been more grateful for the older man in his entire life, and that was probably saying a lot.

After the funeral, Tony started building walls between himself and emotions of loud music and unceasing numbers. He didn't want to know what his friends really thought of him, when the board was lying to him or how much he had disappointed Howard's acquaintances. His sarcasm sharpened during this, as did his isolationist tendencies. He didn't need friends, anyway – he could build them. Tony had proved this once with DUM-E, and he proved it again with JARVIS. Butterfingers and YU followed.

Slowly, Tony Stark became a separate person from Anthony Edward Stark. Where Anthony had trusted his father, Tony spat on Howard's name. Anthony wanted companionship, Tony needed none. Anthony had been a tool to his father because of his abilities, Tony belonged to no one but himself and used empathy only when he wanted to.

Tony still used empathy, but only rarely, and mostly to ward off uncomfortable situations or give himself confidence he didn't truly feel.

* * *

Barely two days after Fury had approached him and offered him a position as a consultant for the Avengers Initiative, he was summoned again to a secure location (it was a glorified, heavily guarded basement) somewhere in Brooklyn by the one-eyed annoyance. Normally he would have just ignored him, but it was SHIELD. Tony had never been able to ignore SHIELD.

Tony eyed the old, almost crumbling room with distaste. "Really, Nicky? You could have at least chosen something classier. I guess I can understand if you feel more at home with old places like these, being a relic yourself."

"Stark."

"Yes, yes, that's my name, don't wear it out."

Tony gave Fury his best shit-eating press smirk. It flowed naturally over his face like it wasn't something he had practiced in front of a mirror for hours as a teen.

"As I'm sure you became aware when you hacked the SHIELD mainframe, the file for the Avengers Initiative says, _Iron Man, yes, Tony Stark, not recommended._"

"Yeah, I know, what was it Romanov said? Unstable, arrogant –"

"That no longer applies."

Tony shut his mouth with a click, just to make sure it hadn't fallen open in shock. Shock was bad for keeping control. "Sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly," he said in a mild tone that he kept purposefully fake.

"I became aware that there are separate files for Tony Stark and Anthony Edward Stark. The latter was much more difficult to find."

There were two files under his name? Why – _oh. _"Howard, that fucking bastard, he actually recorded that shit?"

"At least I know now that your daddy-issues are not totally unfounded."

"Fuck off." Tony was already making plans to delete that file as soon as he got back home. Actually, screw that shit, he was going to start as soon as he got out of here. Thank god for personalized StarkPhones. One person already knew about his empathy and his little stint as an unofficial SHIELD agent, and that was one person too many. This wasn't something he wanted to deal with, _ever. _He had enough problems as it was without dealing with his status as a natural-born mutant. Ugh, even thinking that left him with a nasty taste in his mouth.

"I expect a report, in paper, _handwritten_, on your abilities outside of Iron Man. I don't expect that Anthony Edward Stark will be a file in the SHIELD system after tonight."

Huh, so Fury did have something of a heart after all. Damn, he totally deserved a medal for finding that one out. "Yeah, yeah. I'll get it done."

Actually, on second thought, it was more likely to be a ploy to get Tony to trust him. If Fury really thought he could manipulate the King of Liar Hill, he had another thing coming.

"Oh, and you get to be Banner's nanny from now on."

"Fuck you, Fury!"

Fury sent him a vaguely amused look and walked out the door. Tony groaned and added another two things to the growing list of things he had to do. Shit, being a superhero was more work than being CEO of SI, and that was saying something.

* * *

Tony would never, _ever_ admit, even under pain of death and brutalization of all things electronic, that he had planned out and furnished a floor for each Avenger long before Fury had pretty much ordered them all to move in. Nope, all anyone was ever going to know that the evil, one-eyed leader of SHIELD had wanted to throw a ragtag group of six superheroes against everyone's better judgment, and then decided that Stark Tower (now renamed Avengers Tower) would be the perfect place for everyone to move in.

No one else had to know that Tony had planned to leave the five extra floors alone and unfilled, no sir. Because Tony Stark did not get lonely, damnit, he valued his privacy and he didn't play well with others.

His breakup with Pepper also had absolutely nothing to do with his redecorating spree.

Tony knew Natasha had noticed, though, with those eyebrows of hers that could convey a full-blown rant or pep talk in a single motion. Thank god she decided not to mention it, he would probably die of embarrassment. The fact that the utterly and completely terrifying Black Widow, Agent Natasha Romanov, had something akin to blackmail on him did not give him shudders whenever he thought about it. Yeah.

* * *

Tony couldn't help but scowl and let out a grouchy, "Jesus fucking _Christ, _do these fucktards really have to blow up every damn building they set their eyes on?"

He could feel Cap's disapproval even with his mental barriers up. Tony didn't give a shit; he hadn't had his coffee yet, finished the week's quota of tinkering, or upgraded DUM-E's code. Dealing with a goddamn army of bombs planted in the middle of New York was _not _something he wanted to deal with right now. Or ever, for that manner.

"Might wanna focus more on not become a flat tin can," Barton commented dryly.

"I am perfectly capable of getting myself away from an explosion. Unlike a certain bird-brained Robin Hood who relies upon others for transportation."

_"Chatter!" _Cap snapped, order implied. He was using his _'I am Captain America and you idiots had better listen to me' _voice, and it was pretty effective. Barton and Tony shut up. He might snark and bitch and argue, but at the end of the day Cap was the leader of the Avengers, and he hadn't gotten there just because he had a pretty face.

Tony switched off the mic when he heard yet _another _explosion through someone else's com. Time to go to the source. "JARVIS, run a scan for remote control of the explosions," he ordered as more numbers and charts flared up on the HUD. Calculated detonation times, damage, the team's location and status.

"Yes, sir. It would appear that the explosions are being controlled from a remote location via satellite."

Tony smirked, awesome, the villain of the day was an idiot. "Perfect, set out a scrambler and track the nearest bomb for each of the Avengers. Tell them how to neutralize it. How many bombs are there anyway?"

"Twenty-three at my count, sir."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Give me the locations and tell the others."

"Of course, sir."

If JARVIS was human, Tony definitely would have married him by now. Even Pepper hadn't been quite so awesome, and that was saying something. Then again, JARVIS was an AI that Tony had built pretty much specifically to care for him, so. That might have had something to do with it. He was practically coded to love Tony and vice versa. Hey, maybe that actually could work out. It would be a fun relationship too, though the sex would be a bit hard to figure it out. Awesome, looks like it was time to upgrade JARVIS's coding too.

It was kind of twisted when you were debating the best way to encode your computerized butler with the ability to love. Tony had never said he wasn't fucked up, though, so it wasn't like that was going to stop him. It would take one of those strange, rare bursts of momentary sanity to stop him. He'd remember it was a bad idea after that.

It took almost half an hour to clear out all the bombs and double- and triple-check that the area was clear. Finally, Tony gave JARVIS the go-ahead to track the signal to whoever was insane enough to mastermind this bullshit. "I've got the coordinates for the detonator's location. I'm gonna fly over and –"

"Don't even bother finishing that sentence, Iron Man. You are not going to their home base alone," Cap snapped before he was even finished. Tony felt as if he should be vaguely irritated at the interruption. Stupid boy scouts and their aversion to letting him fly solo. Because, really, he had been doing the solo gig for months before the Avengers showed up. He wasn't useless without a team, damnit. And he wasn't a liability when he was on one.

So Tony did what he did best: pissed people off. "Capsicle, all of you guys are ridiculously slow. It'll take you guys an hour to reach the location with ground transportation in this mess. It'll take me three minutes. Work with me here, use that wonderful tactical brain of yours."

"I said _no. _At the very least, you're taking one of us with you. You can carry at least one person with the suit."

"Look, Spangles, there's this funny thing called g-force that happens at high speeds that humans outside of awesome suits of armor don't deal very well with."

"Then you will just have to go slower, won't you? Take Widow. Do some scouting. And _no _that does not mean you can blow anything up. Actually, don't do anything unless it's necessary. Let her do the scouting, we'll meet up with you."

Tony rolled his eyes. Rodgers could be ridiculously overcautious. The MARK VII wasn't just for show; he could take a pretty significant amount of damage. "Yeah, whatever. Widow, what's your location?"

She rattled it off to him and he flew towards her location. Tony swooped down, wrapped an arm around her waist, and flew off. "Hold on tight, sweetheart," he said through the speakers in the suit. It sounded strangely amusing in Iron Man's distorted, robotic voice, and didn't that just made everything a little bit better.

Romanov raised a single eyebrow. "Watch it, Stark, or someday you'll find yourself incapable of waking up in the morning."

All she got in response was a low chuckle. Tony didn't push it, because he was fully aware that Romanov was completely capable of going through with her threat, and he wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't. Romanov had made it clear multiple times that she didn't exactly like him, not that it was unusual. He was used to being disliked, and he wasn't going to force the issue. Tony winced internally at just the _thought _of that; he wouldn't be able to dredge up the guts to force his teammates into liking him. Besides, there had to be a predisposition for it, and he wasn't exactly sure any of them had that.

It took a long ten minutes to reach the location JARVIS had given him instead of the normal three because of the constraints of Romanov's unarmored state. It was not the first time Tony wished he could get away with making each of his teammates a suit. He scanned the area idly. Isolated in forest, the lone cabin by the dirt road that lead to the highway a couple miles away, was probably the location of the bombers. It would be hard to hide the necessary tech out in the open and Tony kind of hoped their opponents weren't _that _stupid. "I'm gonna drop you off and find somewhere to be…less flashy. Or something. Stupid Capsicle."

The only thing he got in response was a rather rude snort. Behind Iron Man's mask, he pouted. "Come on, Widow, I know you love me somewhere deep down in that cold, spidery heart of yours!"

A raised eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, right, putting you down so you don't find some way to take off my armor and shank me. Got it. Hands off, see?" Tony babbled as he landed and let go of Romanov.

"I'll let you know if something happens." Her comm was switched off for stealth purposes; it was hard to hide sounds coming from your ear, no matter how good the system was. Tony made a note in the back of his mind to work on that.

"Sure, now get your pretty thighs of death into gear and kick some pyromaniac ass."

The eyebrow rose a little higher.

"Right, shutting up."

Tony signaled for the thrusters in his boots and on his back to start up with a carefully practiced twitch of muscles. He got about two feet off of the ground before something with a hell of a lot of force – a small missile, or heavy-duty, armor-piercing round – slammed into his lower back. The HUD flickered before going completely blank, and his suit changed from a weapon and a shield to a metal coffin. Shit.

Motherfucking EMPs.

Tony struggled to get out of his suit, but it weighed exactly 235.74 pounds, but that was a lot of weight for a normal human to move. Despite his best efforts and to his great consternation, his gauntlets were not quite as flexible as bare human hands. Another thing he was working on for the MARK IIX.

Men (and maybe women?) dressed in camouflage and wielding an assortment of weapons ranging from semi-automatics to knives crept out of the forest to form a circle around Tony and Romanov. She already had a handgun, safety off, clutched in her right hand, and a knife in her left. Tony did a quick headcount; there were at least twenty of them in plain sight, and possibly more hidden in the forest or the cabin. For a moment, the two sides stared each other down: SHIELD superspy and brilliant engineer, unknown force with what looked like at least basic military training. Then all hell broke loose.

He couldn't tell who shot first, but Romanov was suddenly a blur of black and red (he saw, once again, where her nickname came from) and bullets were flying everywhere. Tony grimaced, still mostly trapped in his armor. It had been a good two decades since he had last fought in a true life-or-death situation outside of his armor, and he didn't have the option to make mistakes with a teammate's life on the line. Fucking this up was not an option.

Finally, he managed to claw his way out of the MARK VII and unlatch the compartment hidden in the left leg to withdraw a hidden handgun. There were other weapons built into the suit, but all of them required electricity to either access or use. Tony noted that he would have to fix that when he got out of this. He had no more time to think after that, because the enemy was upon him.

Two shots fired at the stomach of one man standing in the distance and carefully peppering the area where Romanov was fighting and slamming the butt of his gun into the closest man's head was as far as he got before the majority of the enemy noticed that he was out of his suit and fighting. After that, Tony was focusing more on staying alive and making sure Romanov was doing the same then attacking. He managed to take another down with a well-placed shot to the left shoulder before the gun was knocked out of his hands and he was forced to rely on purely hand-to-hand combat.

Perhaps a minute later he found himself back-to-back with Romanov, facing a slightly smaller surrounding circle of opponents. He was careful to keep his breathing controlled and his joints unlocked.

"Didn't know you could fight out of your suit, Stark," Romanov commented.

Tony had a feeling he had a lot of explaining to do later. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Romanov." His smile was dangerous, all teeth and predator.

Romanov let out a low chuckle, and then the fighting started again.

Tony was careful to keep close to Romanov this time; he would freely admit that she was far superior to him in close-range combat, and sticking with her was more for his safety than his.

Tony dropped down to the ground on one hand and the ball of his left foot before kicking out in an arc with his right leg, kicking out his current opponent's legs from underneath him. He leaned forward in his crouch a little bit to firmly press into a pressure point at the back of his neck to make sure the enemy stayed out cold for a decent while longer.

As he stood back up, somebody – male, large and heavyset, judging by the fact that he could hold both of Tony's wrists in one hand – grabbed his hands and forced him back to the ground. He lashed out with his legs, but it didn't do any good. The man's legs could have been made of steel for all the difference it made. They were equally hard, too.

Oh, the jokes he could make about that one…

The man forced Tony facedown into the dirt and kneeled down on the back of his knees. Tony swore a blue streak muffled into the ground, because that hurt like a _bitch. _When Tony turned his head to the side so he could breathe a little easier and possibly figure out a plan of escape, he breathed in a lungful of something sickeningly sweet before his nose and mouth was covered with a rag. Chloroform.

As the edges of his vision darkened and he fell inevitably into unconsciousness, he hoped that Romanov managed to get away.

* * *

Tony woke an undeterminable amount of time later to find himself hogtied to a chair with his hands and ankles cuffed together in a very stereotypical concrete cell. The first thing that went through his mind was, "A wooden chair, really? I feel like I should be insulted."

"No video cameras either. Might be bugs though," Romanov said from somewhere behind him.

Tony twisted his head to look over his shoulder. Romanov was chained to the wall by her ankles and feet, and her clothes had been taken away and replaced by a sports bra and too-big jeans. At least they hadn't taken away the bodysuit he wore underneath his armor. He commented, "Did they take everything?"

"Seeing as how they strip-searched me, yeah. My bobby pins are gone too."

Well then. Tony had lock picks sewn into the hems of his sleeves and neckline, and he could probably break the chair and get out of the ropes without sustaining too much damage. If there were bugs, when he broke out it would have to be done quickly, so that their captors wouldn't be able to respond in time, and discussion of the escape with Romanov would have to be as limited as possible. But then there was the matter of what kind of guards their captors had put in place; it could be anything from one of the men they had fought before being captured to five powerful mutants. The cell they were deposited in was bare concrete, perhaps twenty by ten. If there were any bugs in the room, they were certainly well-hidden, but it seemed kind of unlikely at this point. The door was steel, heavy-set, and looked like it slid in and out of the wall. They were probably going to have to make their escape when somebody else opened the door, which added yet another layer of complication to the whole thing.

The door slid open with an ominous _swoosh. _Tony hadn't even known swooshes could be ominous before that. Huh. He could hear Romanov shifting behind him, probably trying to get a read on their opponents.

Two men walked in. The first, probably the more important of the two, was an older man in a navy suit, possibly in his sixties or even seventies with gray hair, watery blue eyes, and equally pale skin. The wrinkles etched into his skin spoke of someone who frowned and glared more then they smiled.

The second was much younger, dressed in dark colors and looking as if he was in about his mid-twenties. He seemed to be of Hispanic origin, with darker skin, short black hair, and matching eyes.

"Hello, Anthony, Miss Romanov," the older man said politely. His voice was smooth and weighted, like honey or sugared cream. It was familiar. "I must admit I expected only Anthony, but really, you are quite welcome here as well," he smiled a bit.

Suddenly, Tony remembered who it was. Agent Brian Richardson, one of the few SHIELD members besides Howard who knew what he was, and his former handler. He had quit SHIELD five years after Howard's death. "I would say it's pleasant to see you again, Richardson, but it's not, and I hate lying," he said through a thin, arrogant smirk.

Richardson's smile widened a bit. "You remember me? I feel honored, Anthony. This will make things much easier, don't you think?"

"Depends on what you want. I'll give you a fair warning, though: the last people who tried to get me to do something against my will ended up dead."

"Really, Anthony, you should be friendlier to an old acquaintance. And Miss Romanov, can't you say hello to an old handler too? If this is really how SHIELD agents treat their colleagues, I really cannot see why I didn't quit sooner."

Tony tensed at that information. Richardson had been Romanov's handler as well? Possibly her first at SHIELD, since she had joined at twenty one according to the records he found.

"I don't consider traitors my colleagues," Romanov said dryly.

Richardson let out a dramatic sigh, "Ah, really? I was _desperately_ hoping we could get along well. Anyway…Anthony, all I really need you to do is give me the information SHIELD had on empathy. A simple thing, right? There was very extensive testing, if I remember correctly. Sadly, I couldn't find the information after Howard died, he was always such a secretive man."

Tony tensed, phantom hands grabbing his arm and injecting a needle, _this won't hurt a bit – _licked his lips, looked up at Richardson, and spat in his face. He took a large amount of vindictive satisfaction in the look of disgust and surprise on his face. "Fuck you."

The Hispanic man lunged forward at that, and punched Tony in the stomach, hard. Tony wheezed a bit, and took in a couple deep gulps of air. "Thank you for staying away from the face, it costs more then you could pay for," he bit out. Tony was rewarded by another, more vicious punch.

Richardson shook his head in mock disappointment. "Anthony, Anthony, your manners are deplorable as ever! Michael, if you could give him a couple lessons in how to treat his hosts, it would be much appreciated."

The Hispanic man, now identified as Michael, nodded once. Richardson smiled again and swept out the door, letting it slide close behind him. Tony turned to face Michael and lifted his chin with a mocking smirk. His expression didn't change, but his subsequent punches and kicks conveyed his anger perfectly well.

By the time Michael left, Tony felt like shit. He was sure at least one of his ribs was cracked, or even broken. One of his molars had been chipped, and he was still spitting out blood from accidentally biting his tongue. Everything else just felt like one massive bruise. A concussion was also a reasonable possibility. Tony let out a tired groan and slumped a bit in his bindings.

Romanov had been completely silent through the whole thing. Now, she started, "Stark –"

"Explanations later, Romanov. I need some sleep," his tone allowed no argument.

"Fine."

Tony nodded jerkily, even though he wasn't sure Romanov could see him, and allowed himself to fall into an uneasy sleep filled with dreams of needles and electrodes and cruel hands.

* * *

Tony drifted into awareness sometime later, still acutely aware of the pain in his ribcage and the deep bruises scattered throughout his skin. "Romanov?" his mouth was dry and Tony had some trouble speaking, but he was still somewhat understandable.

"I'm here."

Tony swallowed, trying to wet his mouth. Romanov deserved to know what the fuck was going on. But telling her that would include telling her about his status as a mutant and former child SHIELD agent, neither of which he wanted to discuss, ever. It's not that he didn't trust her with his life – she had proved many times over that she was capable of pulling her own weight and helping protect her teammates at the same time – it was that he didn't trust her with the softer parts of him he kept locked away. Hell, he didn't trust Rhodey or Pepper with that. The only person he did was JARVIS, and that was mostly because JARVIS couldn't tell anyone jack shit without his permission.

"You don't trust me," she stated. It wasn't a question.

"No, that's not exactly…" Tony swallowed around his dry tongue as he searched for the right words, "it's more like I'm worried that you don't trust me. Iron Man, yes, Tony Stark, not recommended, right?" Because if Romanov didn't trust him now, once she found out about his empathy, she might very well try to have him kicked off the team.

She was silent for a moment. "I was wrong."

Tony's fingers twitched in some sort of nervous tic. That was…possibly the first time someone had ever said they were wrong about him being a crappy human being. It wasn't that he denied that he was a horrible person – he had accepted that a long time ago – it was that he wanted people to trust him to do the right thing. A lot of people wouldn't - couldn't - do that. Tony let out a sigh, and started to tell the story. "You might not know this, but Howard, my father, was one of the founders of SHIELD. I had…" here he paused to gather himself, "a special ability, I guess. I'm a mutant, Romanov. An empath, with the ability to sense and manipulate emotions. To an extent. Howard was ecstatic when he found out, probably the only time he'd ever correlated something positive with me. He started, uh, using me for business deals. Making people trust him more and the competition less." Tony wasn't proud of that part of his history, and no matter what happened, he would always hate himself for manipulating people for such petty reasons.

"Did you ever fail?"

"Empathy isn't…I can't control people with it. I can make people trust more, but I can't control things like how much they're willing to spend. It didn't always work."

"How do you know Richardson, and why does he think you know SHIELD info?"

Tony let a grimace twist across his face. "As soon as my hands were big enough, Howard showed me how to use a gun. At twelve he started using me for SHIELD. It was never official, since it would be, well, illegal, but he did it anyway."

"And he experimented on you."

"Not just him."

"Do you know why Richardson wants the info on empathy?"

"He probably wants to further the research on it, or genetically engineer embryos with empathy. Or both."

Romanov fell silent after that. Tony was pathetically grateful for her matter-of-fact attitude about the whole thing. The idea of someone else knowing his secret was completely and utterly terrifying, and having them freak out on him would probably just make Tony more insecure and nervous. He had kept the whole thing quiet since Howard's death, and the idea of someone else knowing now after just over two decades of no one at all knowing was…scary. Confusing. Worrying.

"I am a manipulator," Romanov said suddenly. "I was trained since I was a baby to get people to trust me, to read my marks and figure out what they wanted. If people and the Avengers can trust me not to use those skills to their detriment, they had better do the same for you."

Tony let out a breathy laugh. "Did you just threaten the Avengers if they decide not to like the fact that I'm a natural-born empath, Romanov?"

"Maybe," Romanov replied in a vaguely impish manner, "and it's Natasha."

Tony stared blankly at the wall for a couple of seconds. Roma – Natasha had just given him permission to use her first name. Talk about kind of unexpected. He didn't call any of the Avengers by their first names, except for Bruce, because they were science bros, and Thor, who didn't have a last name. The idea of calling Natasha by her first name was…novel? Strange? Or something. "Nat?" he asked hopefully. Tony was famous for nothing if not pushing the limits.

"Idiot," she said, but he could hear the tiny sliver of affection in it now. "You don't need permission to use first names, once you've faced down Norse gods and killer robots and all those other insane snafus we deal with."

Tony laughed, and allowed happiness to curl up into the place behind his arc reactor, where guilt and loneliness normally rested. "So, I'm gonna smash this chair, then I'm gonna use the picks in my hems to get us out of here. Sound good?"

"You're insane."

"One of my many charms," Tony bantered as he started rocking back and forth on his toes and the hind legs of his chair. Once he had worked up some momentum, he snapped his chest forward and pushed off with his feet as much as he could to do a small midair flip and smash the back of the chair into the concrete floor. Tony succeeded the smaller remains of the wooden chair scattering around him, chunks of it still attached to him by ropes. His ribs, however, protested loudly and he felt one of them shift painfully. Tony allowed himself and single pained groan before he started to shimmy out of the ropes, careful of his ribs this time. It took him a couple minutes, but he managed it without causing himself any further damage.

Tony settled into a sitting position facing Nat, and paused when he saw that her head was tilted to the side, an amused smirk stretching across her lips. "I used that same move to get out of a similar situation just as the Loki incident was being called in," she admitted. "I think I did it with more style though."

Tony let out a startled chuckle at that. "Howard had me learn some combat, but mostly escape techniques. I was for espionage, not fighting. And being captured was only supposed to be a last resort. He seemed to think not teaching me how to deal with a situation would help me avoid it."

"Sounds like an asshole."

"Oh, he was, trust me," Tony drawled out his agreement as he deftly picked at the hems of his sleeves. Finally, he managed to wiggle out one of his lock picks and got to work. It took him a full five minutes to get one of his right hand and foot free. "Jesus, I'm rusty," he grumbled.

Nat smirked at him. "We'll have to work on that, won't we?"

Tony winced a bit. "I sense pain in my future. Lots of it."

"No pain, no gain, Agent."

Tony groaned and started working on Nat's bindings. "Don't call me Agent, damnit." The locks were simpler and older than the ones on his cuffs had been, but it still took him something like twelve minutes to get her out. "So, now we wait for our next visitors?" he asked.

"Yeah," Nat confirmed. "I think we have some time to get comfy."

"Wanna play chess? I can keep the board memorized."

Nat raised an eyebrow, as if she were skeptical. She agreed anyway, "Okay."

* * *

They did indeed have some time. By Tony's vaguely accurate internal clock, it was about four hours until they were graced with the oh-so-awe-inspiring presence of Richardson and Michael. Note the sarcasm, please.

Tony and Nat had decided to move towards the door so that they could get out in the small time between when the door slid open and when it closed. As it was, that might not have been totally necessary; Richardson was old, and there was no way around that, and Michael was not nearly as intimidating when his punching bag was able to fight back. Nat knocked Richardson out with a couple of quick, well-placed punches while Tony took Michael down with a well-timed simultaneous knee to the groin and elbow to the neck. They would both be out of it for a while.

"Do we need to go find your suit?" Nat asked quietly as they slunk down the concrete halls, watching for any attackers.

"It'll self-destruct if anyone but me tries to put it on," Tony explained flatly. He'd had his tech stolen and copied multiple times, and damn him if his suit was going to be used to hurt innocents ever again. Right now, getting out unscathed was more important than grabbing his (ridiculously heavy and difficult to put on without assistance) armor.

Nat nodded sharply. "Let's find the exit, then."

Tony swore as they turned the next corner. Four guards were there, probably on a patrol or rotation of some sort. Nat immediately leapt into action, her first mark dropping like a large black fly within moments. Tony hurriedly followed, working through the remaining three and leaving them for Nat to finish.

"I was never really taught how to fight, just to escape," Tony said grimly as they worked their way through the halls again. "Got me hurt too many damn times to count, too."

Nat didn't comment, but he didn't need her to, not really. The fact that she knew pretty much everything about him now and still treated him as a valuable teammate was enough for him. When they turned the next corner, Nat wordlessly pointed to the large EXIT sign over two double doors. Tony nodded, and they ran outside of the building.

They were in some seedy city district, judging by the sidewalks crowded with dilapidated buildings and barbed wire that popped up occasionally. They couldn't stop to watch the scenery or smell the roses because it was almost 100% likely that there were people after them. So they ran down the streets, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. The glow of Tony's arc reactor through the holes for it in his bodysuit didn't exactly help their stealth, though.

"What I wouldn't give for a cell phone right now," Tony muttered. "Then we could call Fury or something and get this over with in under five minutes."

Nat pulled the latest model of StarkPhone out of her pocket and pulled up the GPS. "We're in Oakland. We've been gone for about a day and a half."

Okay, what? "Where the hell did you get that?" Tony asked, surprised.

"I just relieved Richardson of this. I figured you wouldn't want someone like that with your tech."

"Relieved Richardson of…of course you did. Remind me never to get on your bad side, Nat." Tony hadn't even noticed her checking Richardson's pockets. That was kinda creepy.

Nat smirked at him before returning her gaze to the StarkPhone as they continued jogging down the streets. She tapped in a number before lifting it to her ear. "…Hello Agent Hill. This is Agent Romanov with Stark. We're in Oakland, California…Ridgewood and Clarke…dark blue Lexus RX?...sure."

"So, we're waiting for someone to pick us up?" Tony arched an eyebrow.

"Apparently." Her irritated grimace was enough to tell Tony that Nat agreed with him on the impracticality.

Tony fidgeted as they waited for a car matching the description Hill had given to show up. Nat seemed totally calm and relaxed, but it was always hard to tell what she was really thinking. For a moment, Tony was tempted to drop his walls and figure out what was going through her mind. He grimaced inwardly at that. Just because Nat had said that she wouldn't judge him for his abilities didn't mean she would be entirely comfortable with him monitoring what she was feeling every second of the day. If he brought his walls down, it wouldn't be just her emotions he could sense; it would be everyone's. Tony suspected that a lot of them wouldn't feel as neutral towards it as Nat and Fury were. And there was also the fact that if Tony dropped his walls completely, he wasn't entirely sure he would limit the use of his powers to keep Bruce from hulking out at awkward times.

Not to mention, Tony didn't really want to know what everyone thought of him all the time. Rodgers especially; he knew the man didn't think much of him and considered him pretty much worthless out of the suit. Tony knew that, intellectually, but the idea of being faced with the cold hard facts of that was cringe-worthy and panic-attack-inducing enough by itself.

Eventually, the car pulled up, and he and Nat climbed into the back wordlessly. The trip to the closest helicopter pad and the to the helicarrier was silent, but Nat's presence gave him the stability he would need to give a report on this and figure out what the hell to do with whatever it was Richardson was planning.


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings: past child abuse, emotional coercion/control, mentions of slash, bisexuality

Chapter Summary: For Tony and Nat, gloves become an unspoken symbol of trust. Everyone else thinks Tony is just testing out a new product. The irony doesn't escape them, because, in a way, he is.

* * *

_Having Everything yet Nothing_

_ii_

* * *

The first thing that happened when they reached the helicarrier was, predictably, having Fury half-yell at them for being captured before being dragged into a secure room for a debrief. Tony took one look at the recording devices in the room, snatched Nat's stolen StarkPhone from her with a little bit of wheedling, and promptly connected the phone to JARVIS, who dutifully turned off all monitoring devices in the room. JARVIS was amazing.

Tony listened with half an ear through the debrief, giving his input only when absolutely necessary, and spent the rest of his mental capacity running possibilities on what the _fuck _Richardson was doing, making the MARK IIX more flexible, and the possibility of embedding a chip of some sorts in replace of the normal com systems they used. And yes, he could actually do all of that at the same time, thank you very much.

"Fine, dismissed," Fury snapped irritably. But when was the man _not _irritable, anyway? The cyclops was probably angry at everyone even during sex. Kinda like what moms said to their kids; _if you make that face for too long, it'll get stuck like that. _But with emotions. Tony knew from personal experience that if you let one emotion overrun you, it could rule you and drag you to the ground like a five-ton shackle. It generally wasn't a fun experience.

He looked up from his StarkPhone, which had been returned to him sometime during the debriefing, when he heard a door open, and realized that he had followed Nat out of the debriefing room and towards the personal quarters for the agents that slept in the helicarrier. "Where are we going again?"

She gave him that look that said quite clearly: _you are a hopeless moron and you are ridiculously lucky I put up with you_, and added, "The rest of the team's waiting for us in Clint's room."

Tony let out a grunt of agreement or understanding (he wasn't sure which). Nat stopped in front one of the unremarkable doors, though this one probably belonged to Barton, which made it remarkable in its own way. She keyed in some code that Tony didn't bother to consciously remember, but was probably stored somewhere in the back of his brain anyway. Photographic memory and all.

Any chatter that had been taking place before immediately stopped as the door slid open to allow his and Nat's entrance.

Bruce looked up and sent them a small smile. "Welcome back you two."

Thor grinned at Bruce and nodded, "Indeed! Shield siblings, you must tell us the tale of your courageous adventure!"

"Not much to tell," Tony said offhandedly. "It was a trap, we got taken down – damn EMPs and chloroform – they tried to interrogate us, we escaped."

"Something tells me it was more of a 'Tasha' instead of a 'we' thing," Barton quipped, smirking.

"You wound me, Legolas!" Tony cried dramatically, clutching at his chest, "I'll have you know I played a vital part in the escape!"

"Focus, soldiers!" Cap snapped. "I know what you're going to say to that, Stark, and I don't want to hear it. Just tell us what happened at that base and who our newest enemy is."

God, Cap was such a goddamn perfect leader and human being that even when he was irritated he made Tony feel small and worthless. Ugh.

Nat slunk down into a chair and began, "It was a trap for Iron Man; I was unexpected collateral. They took the suit down with an EMP and then sent us against a group of fighters. They seemed to be normal humans, just armed and reasonably well trained. There were too many of them, and we got taken down. We were moved to some sort of facility where two men came to interrogate us."

Tony pulled up a hologram of Richardson from his phone and interrupted, "This is one of the men, the leader from what we could tell. His name is Brian Richardson, he used to be an agent at SHIELD dealing with 'difficult' integration cases. In short, people like Barton and Romanov – and mutants – worked under him during their first few months and SHIELD. In some cases, he worked with them for longer, though." He paused for a moment as he recalled what Fury had said during their debriefing. "Fury and Hill think that he's trying to form some sort of mutant army. He's also had a past with Charles Xavier – that's the leader of the X-Men and the Xavier Institute – and let's just say they didn't get along well. So there might also be some sort of revenge thing going on as well."

"Why did they want you, though, Tony?" Barton asked.

Tony buried down the surprise of being called by his first name and said flatly, "This guy worked with Howard and I met him a couple of times when I was younger. He knows how I am about hacking. He figured I'd memorized most of SHIELD's important files. Which I have, by the way."

Nat sent him a discreetly searching look, which he ignored thoroughly. Hell would freeze over before he would freely admit how he knew Richardson and why the man was so interested in him.

"That's…really not safe, Stark. That stuff's classified for a reason," Rogers said slowly.

Okay, no. _No. _Rogers could hate him all he wanted, but that was one line that he wasn't allowed to cross, damnit. Tony could see between the lines in that statement; _That's not really safe, Stark, you're a civilian and you couldn't keep your mouth shut if someone really tried to convince you to give up the information. _"Do I look like I give a shit about safety?" Tony commented flippantly. "There's information, I wanted to know it, that's all there is to it. And trust me, Fury's tried – no one can stop me."

A rush of vindictive satisfaction and _maybe_ a little bit of guilt ran through Tony as he saw Rogers' jaw clench. "Would it _kill _you to have some respect for authority, Stark?" Cap was practically snarling.

He remembered Obi and Howard and Richardson. "It almost did, the last three times." With that blank, emotionless remark, he turned on his heel and started out the door. "I'll see you guys later in the Tower."

Tony probably shouldn't have said that much. Now he would have to avoid another Obsessively Pick at the Cracks in Tony's Shields session. Ugh.

He couldn't even do _that _right.

* * *

It was a good three hours until someone came down to the lab to bother him. Tony had expected Bruce to come in with an apologetic smile and tell him the rest of the Avengers were upstairs and wanted to talk. But that wasn't how it played out at all.

Nat was the one who punched in the passcodes instead. She entered the room and slid over to where he was sitting in front of a massive display of holograms and settled into one of the many chairs he had scattered all over the place.

"What are you working on?" she asked. Tony turned to examine her carefully, trying to deduce the motivation behind her words. The part that scared him was that he couldn't find anything except for an honest curiosity and a wish to just _be _there for him. Tony had seen that look a couple of times, even given it once or twice, but it had never been directed at him before.

So he answered her honestly with, "It's a motherboard I'm developing for the next generation of SI laptops. It's mainly an implementation of the nanotech we've been working with recently; there's everything the previous generations had and more, and there's still a lot of empty room left for, well, more stuff."

"Sounds useful."

"It is. Now tell me why you're really here? 'Cause I don't think you came down here to hear me talk about how wonderful my nanotech is."

Nat gave a small smile at that. "Just curious. About your empathy, I mean. And why you don't use it."

Tony let out a resigned sigh. He should have known this was coming. "JARVIS, code midgard-six-eight-beta-epsilon-avenging-zero-five, initiate lab lockdown. No one comes or goes unless I say so, and all recording devices are to be turned off."

"Yes sir."

That done, he looked away from one of the security cameras in the room and back to Nat. "What do you want to know?"

"You said you could feel emotions, manipulate them. What is that like for you?"

Still nothing but curiosity and support. This was uncomfortable, how the hell was he supposed to _deal _with this? "I guess it's kind of like looking at someone and feeling what they feel, to a muted extent. I can feel their emotions, but I know it's not a part of me. Like, I'm the oil and they're water that I can feel, to a degree, but it just…washes over me. Jesus, this is like explaining to someone who's been blind their whole life what a sunset looks like. How are you supposed to do that?" He might have whined a bit during that last part.

Nat shook her head as she fought down a chuckle. "I think I get it, if just a little."

Tony sent her a half-hearted scowl. "You're laughing at – you're not allowed to laugh at me, Romanov!"

She grinned a bit, and waved him along, signaling him to continue.

"As for what it is to…use them? When my shields are down and I touch someone, it's like that water solidifies, I think. And I can change the shape of the emotion, make it larger or bigger, even make it override some emotions to an extent. I can't do anything if the emotion isn't there, though. Like I couldn't make Barton hate you or make Cap angry enough to go against SHIELD, because that emotion just doesn't _exist _in them."

"What are you so afraid of?"

Tony was taken aback a bit at that question. _"What?" _

He was afraid of a lot of things. Of water, of caves, of cold, of hospitals, of authority figures, of people finding out. But he honestly has no idea what Nat's talking about. Or maybe he just wouldn't let himself dwell on the answer, that was possible too.

"Why don't you use your empathy? Why did you build the shields? What scared you so much that you felt you had to hide this from _everyone_?"

Tony licked his lips, trying to get some moisture into his suddenly dry mouth. "Look, Nat, I don't…it doesn't matter. I don't use it anymore unless Bruce looks like he's hulking out, and even then I keep it really limited. I won't use it. I've done enough, manipulating people by using a power they have no defense against."

"Sure, you don't want to use it to manipulate people, I understand that part. What I don't get is why you blocked off the sensing part of it. If you didn't do that, you would have known about Stane, known about a lot of things before they happened. So. Why?"

His throat stubbornly closed up. "Nat, please, don't –" he croaked. "Don't make me talk about this."

"Look, Tony, I know you've got issues, but all you're doing right now is hurting yourself. So talk."

"I," he stuttered out. God. He didn't want to talk about this, but he knew Nat wouldn't stop pushing. And maybe, just maybe, she could help him deal with this. "I don't want to know what people think about me. When I was a kid, I always felt Howard's disapproval, his disappointment, how much he goddamn wished I was _better. _And I know Rogers doesn't like me, and I piss Barton off, and Bruce deals with me only 'cause he's a nice guy, Thor never even _talks _to me, and Jesus, I don't even know why you're here and Pepper, she deserves so much fucking better than me, we broke up for a _reason -!" _

And he was suddenly aware that he was hyperventilating, hands shaking like autumn leaves, and Nat was _hugging _him. "Tony, calm down, breath. Listen, to me, breath with me, okay? Inhale."

Tony shivered a bit as he fought himself for control. The way he explained it to Nat made empathy sound so easy, but it really, really wasn't. It was a battle for control over the inner parts of someone's being, and it was every bit as difficult as it sounded. It made it all the more painful when he inevitably lost control. It had happened only once before in front of another person, and Tony had sworn to never let it happen again where someone could see him. And yet here he was, clutching at Nat's shirt like a fucking baby. Jesus, he was weak.

"Exhale."

He finally managed to pin down and suppress the wriggling pit of snakes that were the emotions Nat had pulled out. "'m fine, Nat," he muttered as he pulled away from the hug.

She looked at him and titled her head to the side a bit, like a bird examining something interesting and new. "You're not," she said slowly, "But maybe one day you will be."

Tony nodded as he turned back to his holograms, not sure if he really believed her. He'd never been fine, not really. He had a lifetime of 'not fine' behind him and he had no idea what it was to be healthy, normal, or balanced. Tony was pretty sure he would never be capable of being anything related to those three things.

"But you have to start somewhere, and that means letting down those damn walls and realizing that the world doesn't always hate you as much as you hate yourself."

He spun back around and arched a single sarcastic eyebrow and gave Nat his best _don't be stupid _look. "You made the file, Nat. I'm a self-centered narcisstic asshole. Ask anyone, they'd all say that my opinion of myself is _too _high."

"You didn't read what I wrote, Tony, you just assumed. I said that you are often sarcastic and joking and include yourself in those jokes. Most people take that as a facet of your apparent narcissism, but it's really a way your low self-esteem manifests itself even when you try to suppress it, seeing it as a weakness." This was all said in an even, professional tone that any SHIELD agent would be jealous of, as if she wasn't dissecting him and leaving all his vulnerable parts open for her examination.

"I'm used to being the one doing the exposing, not the other way around," he muttered.

"Maybe you just need people around you who actually give a shit. I know you won't believe anything I say about the others, but Tony? You can trust me, and I won't stab you in the back. And if you'd just let down those fucking walls and stop running, I think you'll find that you have four other people here that won't either."

"No, Nat. It's not just the sensing, god, I don't even understand how the hell this shit works. What if I'm effecting people by just being there and feeling things? For all I know I'm projecting what I feel into other people, and I don't want to do that! Especially not with people that I - that I respect."

Nat got this pinched look around her eyes that in anyone else Tony might have labeled as pity. "It's not just about what people think of you, is it? When you find people that don't hate you, you worry you're projecting what you feel on to them, because you don't believe that someone could ever care about you."

Tony swallowed. He wanted to run, to escape this woman that was picking him apart with ruthless efficiency and leaving his most jealously guarded secrets open for her examination. Normally, his reaction would be to get cruel and sarcastic, but that wouldn't work on Nat. She'd just keep coming back again and again until she got what she wanted, and what she wanted right now was to understand the untold intricacies that were Tony Stark. "Yeah."

"Open up, Tony. If not to anyone else, at least to me. I'm not going anywhere, and you'd know that if you'd just let those damn walls down."

"Everyone leaves."

"Maybe, but I won't do it willingly."

"Why the hell do you trust me?" Tony exploded, standing up quickly. "I could be manipulating everything you're feeling, everything _anyone I've ever known _is feeling!"

Nat looked him straight in the eye and replied, "Because I hate that you wouldn't believe us if we told you you're a part of the Avengers too."

Her shocking(ly accurate) words worked like a strong punch to the gut, pushing all the air out of him. Tony deflated quickly and sunk back into his chair.

"Look," continued Nat, "if you won't do it for yourself, do it for the team. We could really use an ability like that strategically. You can tell whether someone is lying, frustrated, scared, or confident. That could really help when we're trying to figure out the next move of our enemy. I get that you're scared of accidentally manipulating people, so wear gloves or just try to be careful about where you touch people."

Tony sighed as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. Nat wasn't just going to let this go, and if he agreed to this, he might be able to convince her not to tell anyone else. "All right. Fine. You win, just don't say anything to anyone else, okay?" She frowned a little, but before she could say anything else he held up a hand and said, "Just, don't."

Nat let out a little exasperated sound, like a sigh that got stuck somewhere in the back of her throat. "Have it your way, Stark," she conceded.

He leaned back into his chair and focused on chipping down the walls around his sixth sense, piece by miniscule piece. He might be many things, but Tony always tried to be a man of his word.

The first full shape of emotions he could feel he immediately connected to Nat. There was a far-reaching calm, washing over a deeper, all-encompassing fierceness, a landmine of buried guilt, a quiet, hidden protective streak that he suspected was connected to the Avengers, and him and Barton specifically, and a niche of safety, which he again attributed to the team.

Next was Bruce, calm and unassuming and bashful and so goddamn in control it was almost scary. Underneath the surface lurked the childlike feeling of the Hulk, anger and sadness and pettiness all wrapped up in one giant green package.

Barton flickered into view after that, a disturbing paradox of seriousness and playfulness, a terribly confusing mess of humor, determination, curiosity, sadness, and anger running underneath that. But possibly even more important than all of that was the total and complete sense of _knowing _Barton had that came only when someone was completely and utterly at ease with themselves.

Then came Thor, honest, gallant, honorable and just so _warm. _Like the hot chocolate Jarvis used to make him as a child. Somewhere underneath that floats vague insecurities and sadness, and Tony would bet his entire worth that the majority of them have to do with Loki.

Cap stumbled into the back of Tony's senses just as he had finished comprehending Thor. Even the man's _emotions _demanded attention because they were just so goddamn _good. _Family, comfort, happiness, honesty, loyalty, duty, honor, protection – every single good thing in the world seemed to fucking emanate from him. Rogers was all apple pie and old-fashioned goodness with a faint sprinkling of grief from his lost comrades and confusion and a sense of being lost in the new era. It made Tony _sick _how good the man was, even as he wanted to curl up and let all of those warm feelings wash over him and –

_No_. Not fucking going there. Letting down the walls that protected him from the outer world would not make him loose the titanium-hard grip he had on his own emotions. Tony absolutely refused to let that happen. So he shoved that last thought back where it belonged, in the dusty, cramped corner of his mind crawling with the ghosts things he refused to dwell on.

And when Nat asked, "Anything wrong?" as the rest of the world faded into place, emotions humming in air and – goddamn, how big was his range? That _sucked _– twisting among people again, as they had when he was seventeen. It felt like it was yesterday.

He replied blithely, "Nothing, just getting used to it all again." He waved his hands around a bit, trying to get her to understand.

She did though, blissfully, and he sent up a prayer to whatever deity was listening. He hoped it wasn't Loki. "Okay. I'm going to go do some exercising in the gym. Tonight's movie night, don't forget," Nat stood up and walked out.

It was even easier to read people now that his walls were down, and he could tell that it was really an invitation to come spar with her in the gym. But he wasn't ready for that, not after facing down and accepting something that he'd been running from for the past two decades. Maybe later, but not now.

Tony remembered what Nat said about the gloves, though. And he had been thinking about possibilities for making holograms more accessible for the general public…

It was all in the name of science, really. Bruce would be thrilled.

* * *

That night, when they curled up in one of the entertainment rooms, christened The Nest, to watch _Star Wars _on rerun (it was Tony's turn to pick, and really, _Star Wars _is like the god of all movies, so why are they complaining?) if Tony abandoned his normal seat on his fluffy red armchair to save the shorter of the three couches with Nat, who never shared, no one said anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to all of you lovely reviewers/followers/favoriters! I really appreciate all the support and feedback ^-^**

**Music: Raise Your Hand by Javier Colon**

Warnings: past child abuse, emotional coercion/control, mentions of slash, bisexuality, minor character death

Chapter Summary: In which Tony is whipped into shape, Natasha gets pissed, and mutants attack the Tower. It's all in a day's work, really.

* * *

_Having Everything yet Nothing_

_iii_

* * *

Tony eyed the six foot metal tube on the floor where Nat had dropped it, unimpressed. "And what exactly is this supposed to do?" he asked with raised eyebrows. He could feel her amusement clearly.

Nat rolled her eyes and replied, "It's called a slosh tube. It's filled halfway with water and when the water moves around it makes it difficult to balance. It's good strength and core training. Are you seriously going to wimp out on me already?"

Tony glared, "No chance in hell."

Her smirk was positively evil. "Good."

* * *

Nat flipped backwards off of where she had previously pinned Tony to the mat. She was favoring her right arm; most likely still largely numb from when Tony pinched nerves under her shoulder. "Okay," she said, "this is beyond guesswork. You were trained in pressure points."

Tony rolled off of his back into a crouch, "Richardson thought it would be a good thing for me to learn, to make it easier to escape quickly without permanently injuring or killing someone on accident."

She nodded slowly. "Have you ever heard of Kadochnikov Systema? It's a Russian fighting style based on biomechanics and the body's weak points. I think you'd like it."

"I've never heard of it, but I have a feeling I'm about to become rather familiar with it."

"Careful, you almost sounded tired there."

"You suck."

* * *

Tony was just finishing up his warm-up stretches when Nat walked into the gym, carrying what looked like a black briefcase. "Whatcha got there?" Tony queried.

She gave him a smile that was somehow dangerous and happy at the same time (satisfaction-pride-anticipation ran through her, bright and strong) and flicked open the latch on the case. Inside, resting on velvet, were twelve daggers, all of them less than a centimeter wide and deadly sharp, but varying in length from two to four inches. Tony picked one out of the case and let out a low whistle. The knife was perfectly balanced, just enough weight behind it to throw without it being needlessly heavy. "These are really nice, Nat. For me? You shouldn't have." The first part was honest, the latter nothing but sarcasm. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Tony wrapped himself in the warm feelings Nat gave off, too many for him to bother naming. She just gave him a little smile, and started to teach him how to properly use the knives.

* * *

Bruce paused as he passed by the gym on his way to get a drink from the mockup vending machine Tony had installed on the floor.

"Come on, Tony, you can go harder than that."

"I'll show you hard, Nat!"

He really, really didn't want to know.

* * *

They had been joking about the fact that Tony's smaller knives didn't always stick in the targets.

* * *

Natasha was happy. Comfortable. When she was with Tony.

The realization blindsided her. It had happened sometime in the two months since they had been captured, and she hadn't even realized it. Natasha wasn't used to feeling completely safe or at ease around anyone that wasn't Clint or Coulson. It wasn't that Natasha didn't trust the team; she just didn't trust them completely. She hadn't emotionally dissected any of her other teammates or worked with them for over a decade, so that probably had something to do with it. Things were what they were, and Natasha couldn't bring herself to regret it. Clearly Tony needed someone who supported him, given his nervous breakdown in the lab and his more positive reactions to her support afterwards.

When they were alone, he was softer; his sarcasm had no intention to hurt behind it and he didn't block her out like he did everyone else on the planet. It was gratifying, that he trusted her enough to leave himself so open around her. Natasha was also fiercely glad that Tony was an empath in this situation; there was no way he didn't know what she felt about this unless his was pigheadedly denying it, which didn't seem to be the case.

It was…_nice._

"Hey Nat, you coming? Dinner should be happening already," Tony called, leaning against the wall by the elevator. He was still slightly out of breath from the hours spent training, sweaty, a faint flush covering his face.

"Of course," she answered with a small smile. The elevator doors opened with a quiet _ping, _and they stepped in, enjoying the companionable silence while it lasted.

They were Avengers after all; quiet wasn't something that happened very often, and therefore it was something to be savored.

Tony was right; when they reached the communal floor that Tony had installed a state-of-the-art kitchen in, the rest of the team was already digging in to their dinner. It looked like ham, green beans, and potatoes, but there was an unnamed sauce accompanying it that meant Thor had made dinner. He liked - and was good at - mixing Asgardian and Midgardian cuisines.

Steve was the first to notice their presence and sent a small frown their way. He believed that meals should be eaten together, as a family unit. Natasha knew she wasn't the only one who found it a bit strange, but all the same it was…nice.

"Gatorade, Nat?" Tony asked from the kitchen as he forked some food on to two plates for the both of them.

"Lemon-lime," she nodded as she took her plate from him.

Tony grinned and chucked the bottle at her just as she sat down across from Clint. She reached up and caught it, sending him an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Love ya too Nat!" he joked with a small, true smile as he plopped down in the open chair next to her.

Inwardly, Natasha melted a bit. Tony was like an overgrown, overeager puppy at times. It was adorable in the same way that he must have been as a child, thin, gangly, tripping over his own legs and wearing thick-rimmed glasses. He actually had worn glasses as a child for a bit, until he got contacts.

"What were you two doing that made you so late for dinner?" Bruce asked suddenly, smirking slightly at Tony.

Natasha blinked for a moment. Was he _really _implying..?

"I must admit, I am curious as well, Shield Siblings!" Thor said with his normal enthusiasm.

"Just training," Natasha said coolly. "What exactly did you think we were doing, Bruce?"

Steve frowned at Bruce, probably not sure what he was implying. Bruce just shrugged. "Well. I mean, it is Tony. And you two have been spending a lot of time together."

She took one glance at Tony and could tell he was nervous; he was eating slowly and watching everyone else warily, especially Clint. He swallowed and said to Bruce, "Are you serious? Nat would kill me if I even _tried _that. I'm not looking for another relationship right now. We're just working on my hand-to-hand skills so I'm not totally useless outside of the suit."

If he was admitting to a weakness in front of the others, he was definitely nervous.

"Damn straight she'd kill you," Clint snapped suddenly. "Tasha's your fucking teammate, Stark, show some goddamn class. Not that you have any, you did fuck your PA for a while, didn't you?"

Natasha glared at Clint for that. With his walls down, Tony was much more sensitive in the emotions department then before; he could feel every bit of anger and whatever else it was that was driving Clint to act this way.

"She wasn't _just _my PA, she was my PA and my girlfriend, and then she was my CEO and my girlfriend. Why, if I didn't know better, Katniss, I'd say you were jealous," retorted Tony.

"Yeah, and look how well that turned out, eh? You'd think that'd teach you how you are with relationships. I don't even know why Tasha _bothers_, you're just a rich civilian with some brains outside of the suit. And you know what? You're just a selfish asshole whose money built him a superior suit. And that fortune and those brains? They're not yours, they're just inherited. They _all _came from Howard, and from what I've heard from Cap he's ten times the man you could even _hope _to be. You're the only one who had a problem with Howard, Tony, and I bet he just saw down to the core of who you really are – a horrible, miserable human being. You're just the fucking shadow of what your father was, and without that you'd be nothing."

At this point, Natasha didn't give a fuck that it was Clint who was saying these things. She was _pissed _and Tony had that wide, slightly glazed look that he'd had when Steve had said much the same, and that was _not_ allowed_. _

It was the Black Widow that stood up out of her chair and snarled at Clint, not Natasha Romanov. "You'd better listen to what I'm about to say, Clint. Tony is a smarter, stronger, better man then Howard could even dream of being. I don't know who the man Cap knew was, but the man Tony knew was a _fucking monster. _Don't you _ever _call Tony selfish again, you dick, because he's the one who is funding the Avengers, gave us our home, and building our weapons. All of you treat him like shit just because you can't deal with the fact that he's sarcastic and socially retarded, and yeah, he can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, but in case you haven't noticed, ever single _piece _of his ego is _earned." _

Natasha's voice was low and deadly. Everyone looked utterly terrified of her, except for Tony. His utterly shocked expression just fueled her on.

"I don't care if you're Captain America, the prince of another dimension, have a green alter-ego, or if you've worked with me for over a decade, if you hurt Tony without provocation, I will _end you." _

Steve and Bruce just looked shocked, and maybe even a little scared. This would serve as a warning to them. Clint bowed his head nervously, looking at least slightly ashamed of himself. Good.

Thor looked her straight in the eyes, understanding in a way that none of the others did. "I agree with you, Lady Natasha. I do not believe we have been treating the Man of Iron with the respect he deserves, and I am ashamed it has taken so long for me to see it."

Natasha nodded, sat back down, and returned to eating. She didn't have to look to know that Tony was fidgeting underneath the table.

"I'm just…gonna go," Tony muttered, standing up from the table. "I'll be in my lab if anyone needs me."

With that, he walked away as fast as he could manage without making it look too awkward. Tony's shoulders were hunched in, head slightly bowed, as if he wanted to disappear. Tony had barely even touched his food.

Natasha had to restrain herself from punching Clint for making him feel like that. Yes, she had a long history with Clint, liked, got along with, and shared her secrets with him. But if he kept pulling dick moves like that on Tony, that might not last for very long.

"Just for the record," Natasha added as she stood up to put her dishes in the dishwasher, "we're not fucking."

With that, she stalked out of the room, head held high enough for both her and Tony.

By the time Natasha keyed in the codes to the lab, Tony was already working with one of his hologram interfaces, apparently putting the finishing touch on what looked like a pair of gloves with wires running through it.

"What are those?" she asked, sliding into the extra chair Tony had kept as a permanent fixture since the first time she had entered the lab.

"Originally, they were going to be advanced movement sensors to make holograms more available for the general public," Tony answered, fiddling with some wiring in the hologram.

"In terms suitable for the average consumer?" Natasha prodded dryly.

Tony let out a quite chuckle before he explained, "They work somewhat like a Wii remote, sensing movements in the hands and fingers and transmitting it back to the main device. Certain preset movements will correlate to commands in the program. It's expensive, but it's much cheaper than the advanced, custom-programmed body recognition system programmed into JARVIS."

"You said originally. What are you planning on adding?"

"Well. The movement sensor part was easy, so I moved on to a GPS tracker, vitals monitor, and a two-way Morse code system. Not something the general populace needs, but useful for people like us. And it gives me a nice excuse to wear them all the time."

Ah. So that was what this was really about. She should've known. "Still nervous about your empathy?"

"I guess."

There was a blanketing silence for a moment, before Natasha noticed a horizontal glass tube attached to what looked suspiciously like a heart monitor and a control panel of some sort and belonged more in a hospital then a lab. "Tony, why do you have a heart monitor here?"

Tony turned slightly to look where she was and said flippantly, "Oh, that's just a hypobaric chamber. It helps my body create more red blood cells, absorb oxygen faster and all that."

Natasha frowned suspiciously. "Why do you need that?"

Tony raised an eyebrow and said in a flat tone, "Nat, I have a hunk of metal embedded five inches into my chest. My ribs were cut open, my heart was moved, and muscles were cut out. My lungs only work at three-quarters of their original capacity."

She stared at him, trying to reconcile the image he had just given her with the strong man in front of her. "I didn't think it was that bad," she muttered. "You've never seemed anything but healthy as a horse, except for the palladium poisoning."

Tony smiled at her, a little sadly. "Well, it's not that bad once you get used to it. I'm Tony fucking _Stark_, I'm bigger and badder then the goddamn Batman and I was never gonna let something like this keep me down."

Natasha quirked an eyebrow at that. "Figures. Doesn't it hurt, though?"

Tony shifted a bit, "There's always a low level of pain from it. But I've gotten used to it, mostly."

She almost winced in sympathy. Natasha was learning more and more that being Tony Stark sucked. Most people would laugh in her face if she told him that.

A peaceful quiet fell over them again, until Tony broke it five minutes later with a quiet sigh as he closed down the hologram he had been working with. She turned to face him straight on out of reflex.

"When Clint said that Howard saw what I really was, he meant that I deserved everything he ever– " Tony started.

Natasha interrupted him immediately with, "Clint is a moron. _Nothing _of what he said is true, do you hear me? _Nothi-"_

"Howard threatened to kill me once," Tony confessed quietly.

Natasha stopped talking. She had believed Howard was bad but this…this was worse than she had imagined.

"It was after an espionage mission over summer break when I was sixteen. I failed, fucked it up pretty badly, got myself exposed and almost killed. He told me if I ever screwed up that badly again, he'd either leave me to die or kill me himself to save them the trouble. We were in his lab. He had just finished a new model of hand gun."

Tony sucked in a breath and finished, "I thought he was going to kill me, Nat, with a bullet between the eyes as an asset that had lost its usefulness."

Natasha let out a quiet string of words in Russian, cursing Howard and everything he had ever cared about. At least she had been an orphan; it was strangers that had tried to break her and ultimately failed. But for Tony, it was his own father, and Natasha wasn't sure if Howard hadn't succeeded.

Well fuck Howard and everyone else who had hurt Tony in the past. Natasha would trample over their dead bodies to keep Tony safe.

* * *

"Sir –"

Tony rolled over in his sleep, burying his head deeper into his pillows. He was actually _sleeping_, that was practically a cause for celebration in and of itself, so whoever was interrupting him had better have a _good fucking reason. _

"Sir, I must insist you get up!"

As soon as he registered the panic in JARVIS's electronic voice, he was out of bed and pulling on a pair of pants and a t-shirt thick enough to block out the light of the arc reactor. His gloves were already on. Nat would freak if she found out he wore them to sleep. "What's up, JARVIS?"

"There are intruders in Doctor Banner's floor; they entered through the windows. I have already notified the other Avengers, all of which are en route."

"Who's the enemy, Jarvis?" Tony barked while he strapped on his utility belt, knives sheathed and a repulsor handgun holstered.

"It appears to be four mutants with varying abilities: the female seems to have gravity control and the Hispanic man has electrokinesis. The abilities of the other two are currently unknown."

"Thanks, JARVIS," Tony called as he ran down the stars as fast as he could while still staying reasonably silent. "Contact the police and SHIELD."

"Of course, Sir."

Tony slowed down once he reached Bruce's floor and heard voices coming from the open door that lead to Bruce's library.

"-n't move, or else your Captain pays the price," somebody said, ridiculously smug.

There were indeed four intruders, most of them calm and confident, even on the Avengers' home turf. These guys, whoever they were (Richardson's goons, most likely) knew what they were doing, or at least thought they did. Probably trained, judging by the calm collected blanket that covered their emotions. Going by the smug triumph coming from one of the intruders and Cap's uncharacteristic nervousness and worry, they had Cap at a gunpoint or something similar, which was just not allowed.

Tony edged silently towards the door and eyed the scene with wary calculation. The four foreigners had their backs partially turned to the door, and by extension, to Tony. He recognized one of the intruders as Michael immediately. Standing behind him and slightly to the left was a willowy female with ash blonde hair wearing civilian clothes.

Bruce was crumpled unconscious on the floor in his human form in front of the two. Tony viciously bit back the urge to go batshit on the two of them just for that.

The remaining two invaders (The Avengers Tower was their goddamn territory, deal with it) were men dressed completely in black, masks covering their faces. One of them was heavily armed with guns and knives while the one holding a gun to Cap's head was unarmed except for that weapon.

The other Avengers were scattered around the room, all of them focused entirely on the gun pointed at Cap's head, even Barton, whose right arm was clearly broken. Fair enough. If Tony had been in the same position, he probably would have done the same.

The man that had Cap at a gunpoint nodded sharply to Michael, who hauled Bruce over his shoulder with one arm and started towards the shattered window.

Oh fuck no.

_Nobody_ endangered Tony Stark's team and got away with it. And these fuckers were threatening two of them.

In half a second, he made a series of calculations; anatomy, force, velocity and trajectories running in the back of his mind. Then, he moved.

Tony threw one of his smaller knives at the wrist aiming the gun at Cap's head, slicing clean through the muscles and tendons there. His mark let out a loud swear and tried to pull the trigger. Before he could Tony was standing behind him, shoving Cap out of the way, wrenched the bastard's wrist so he was forced to drop the gun and pulling out a larger knife to bury in the man's throat. He twisted, cutting all the veins there and ripping the man's neck open. Tony yanked his knives out of the man's body and let his body drop to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Cap preformed a quick pivot on his heel and punched the heavily armed man, who didn't even twitch at the attack. The man's mutation was most likely super-strength or something of the like, based on that. Tony lunged forward and angled a knife at the man's spine, but it glanced off as if he had been trying to dig it into adamantium instead of skin and cloth. Tony modified his earlier assessment: hard skin, probably equal or greater to the strength and durability of stainless steel.

The man pulled out two guns and casually shot Cap in the stomach before pointing one gun at Tony. Cap struggled valiantly to get up, but it would take a while judging by his worry and fear, even with his healing factor. Tony was going to have to get out of this one himself.

He twisted to the side in a low crouch and lashed out at the man's knee with a strong kick. His skin might have been hard as steel, but the rest of his body might not be. The man faltered backwards and began to fall, but he managed to flip himself so he came down on top of Tony, pinning him to the ground. He had let go of his left gun at some point and wrapped the free hand around Tony's windpipe, squeezing harshly. Tony scrabbled fruitlessly at the steely skin. Even though logically he knew it would do nothing, instinct didn't bow to it.

Spots began to dot his vision just as a shock of red appeared seemingly from nowhere behind Tony's assailant. Nat did something with the bracelets on her wrists that caused the intruder to spasm before collapsing, unconscious, on top of Tony. It was uncomfortable, but it was better than being strangled to death. Tony took in a couple of wheezing breaths to get his light-headedness at least somewhat under control. He rolled the heavy body off of him and reassessed his surroundings.

The library was thoroughly trashed; bookshelves were broken and collapsing and a pile of books was burning in the corner. The mark Tony had killed was lying face-down on the carpet in a puddle of blood. He was going to have to get a new one. Thor was standing over Michael's slumped, twitching form, amused. Tony could tell he was just barely restraining himself from laughing. Tony stared for a moment.

Well. He supposed that was what you got when you tried to fight the Norse god of lightning as a mutant with electrokinetic abilities.

That left one other intruder. Where had the woman gone? Tony's empathy let him know that she was still nearby, so Tony turned towards the shattered window and saw the woman leaning towards the ledge, Bruce slung over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Apparently Nat saw too, because she immediately lunged towards the blonde woman. But before she could get there, the woman jumped out the window and soared away under her own power.

"Fuck," Tony whispered, _"Bruce!" _


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: This chapter contains the X-Men, of which I have no real knowledge other then fanfiction and Wikipedia. I apologize in advance for the very likely possibility that they are not very well characterized, but I just couldn't resist adding them. **

Warnings: past child abuse, emotional coercion/control, mentions of slash, bisexuality, minor character death

Chapter Summary: The thing Tony Stark is most afraid of is, in fact, himself.

* * *

_Having Everything yet Nothing_

_iv_

* * *

Tony paced in front of the operating room in the helicarrier where Steve had been taken as soon as the backup had arrived. Fucking useless backup, arriving after Bruce had been taken and Cap had been _fucking shot – _

"Tony."

He turned around tiredly to face Nat as she shut the door with a click. Tony tried to get a read on her emotional state, but his empathy hadn't been working particularly well for the past couple of hours after the whole being woken up by mutants trying to kill his team thing because of the way he was currently completely and utterly unable to control his own frustration, worry, fear, nervousness – the list went on and on. In the end, it basically added up to Tony being a guilty fucking mess and unable to control it like he usually could.

"Yeah, Nat?" he managed. His voice was rough, as if he had been screaming or something, which he hadn't unless he had some weird case of mini-amnesia. Weird. The nice ring of bruises from where that fucker had tried to choke him probably didn't help much actually, when he thought about it.

"You know, Cap's going to be fine. Once they get the bullet out and stitch him up he'll be fine in an hour. Bruce too; we'll find wherever they're holding him within a couple of days, and Richardson won't even know what's hit him."

Tony _knew _that, but he was still needlessly worrying and driving himself half-mad with guilt about being unable to save Bruce or spare Cap from a bullet in the gut, tangled up in messy knots of regretting not looking out for Bruce and taking out the metal-skinned man before he could shoot Cap. If the attacker had been smarter, had aimed a little higher, he wouldn't be here in a hospital.

He'd be lying on some autopsy table, skin cold with death, no longer breathing, no more smiles, no more small _Good job, Iron Man_s, no more warm blanketing protection –

Jesus, this had to stop, like, now. Tony absolutely refused to go there – to do this, whatever it was. He couldn't get tangled up in these emotions, whatever they were. He had his suspicions, but he'd never admit them to anyone, not even Nat. At this point, even poking at the disaster of his feelings towards Rogers with his empathy set off internal alarms and a wash of panic-fear-pain-confusion that never seemed to get any better. The last time something like that had happened was when Pepper had broken up with him.

Tony was _so _fucked. He emphasized this thought by nonchalantly knocking his head into the wall.

"Tony?"

"'m fine, Nat," Tony muttered. "Not right now, okay? I'll talk to you later, just not now."

She let out a quiet little sigh that Tony didn't bother to look further in to. "Fine. Fury is calling us in for a debriefing at 0300. Cap will be out of surgery and fully conscious by then, so you don't have to worry about that."

Tony stared at her a little blankly.

"Two hours, Tony. Have a cat nap or something."

He nodded a bit and ran his fingers through his hair. They both knew that wouldn't happen. "Yeah, sure, I can do that. I'll see you then," he said distractedly.

Another near-silent, reluctant sigh, and then, "Of course."

The door closed with a faint _snick _and Tony returned to the quiet sounds of pacing and the dark murmur of his thoughts.

* * *

Nat was right, as she usually was. Rogers was fine and (almost) ready to go under an hour and a half later. Tony left the medical bay before he woke up. It was bad enough that Nat had seen and comprehended his frantic worrying and the reasons behind; he wasn't going to let anyone else see it. Nat had seen to the core of him a thousand times over and had no intention of betraying the trust he had given her, but the thought of letting anyone else even remotely close to the level of access she had to his inner workings made him nauseous.

Tony let out another grumbling sigh (sighs had been all too common recently; it was starting to get repetitive. He needed to figure out another way of expressing his annoyance/worry/whatever he was sighing about) as he poked ferociously at some particularly stubborn blueprints on his tablet. He slouched deeper in his chair and looked out through the glass windows of the meeting room that looked down on the control room of the helicarrier, registering but not really seeing the normal hustle and bustle of the necessary operations. This whole situation was a complete and utter clusterfuck, Jesus. What with Richardson crawling out of the woodwork with some mutant army and Bruce being kidnapped, he was almost surprised things hadn't fallen apart into something totally and utterly irreparable.

But it was only a matter of time. He'd heard people from Congress and the White House talking about regulating and monitoring mutants. While Tony had always been understandably firmly for mutant rights, he'd also been careful to keep his position hidden from the general public and tempered his views with the thoughts on how normal people would view it. If people had started questioning why Tony Stark gave a fuck about mutant rights, especially while he had still been commonly known as the Merchant of Death, things would not have ended well for Stark Industries or for himself. So yes, Tony knew people rather high up in the government who were involved with mutants. Recently, mutants had been treated in a more sympathetic light after the creation of the Department of Mutant Affairs and Dr. Hank McCoy's appointment as the head of said department, but according to what Tony had been hearing, that might not last very long. People were growing restless again, what with the Avengers being an active, world-wide force, the Fantastic Four continuing their work, the X-Men schooling young mutants, and new superhumans showing up literally all over the world like LEDs. These masked protectors had no true credibility unless their identities were well-known and they kept their destruction to a minimum or helped repair it. The only team that met both requirements was the Avengers. Most met neither. Yes, they were defeating supervillians and taking down street-level criminals, but it wasn't unfair for the general populace to want some sort of security. It was like expecting people to trust masked cops with the authority to arrest without charge.

In a way it went both ways, as well; if superheroes were trained and supplied by SHIELD, there would be less of a chance of people getting hurt. It was safer for everyone involved to send off well-trained (former) civilians then just civilians.

And…Richardson. High possibility of a mutant army. That would be the straw that broke the camel's back. There would be some sort of regulation passed, but the real question was how the rest of the superhero community would react to that.

Well, that was a lie. Tony knew how most of them would react. The question was what the hell he was going to do about it.

"You're early, Stark."

Tony hid his surprise at the Director's silent entrance with an unimpressed eyebrow. "Fury," he greeted neutrally. "I'd say I'm happy to see you, but I was taught not to lie, you see."

Fury glared, irritated and impatient. _"Stark."_

Tony waited. Fury had something to say, and the man didn't keep quiet for long when that happened.

"You've heard mentions of the SHRA." It was a statement, not a question.

"No idea what you're talking about," he drawled blithely as he returned to looking at his tablet.

Fury let out a little angered huff, "Super-Human Registration Act, as it's being called by Congress."

Tony sighed and closed the program he had been working with on the table and leveled his eyes with Fury's one where he had sat down across the table. The Director was being serious and for once, so was Tony.

"Rumors," Tony admitted. "No names, just the general idea. Publically registering mutants and putting them under direct government control and other less desirable things. I'll tell you flat out that while the basics are good, the things I've been hearing aren't quite so pleasant. A law like that will pass over my dead body."

"Good thing SHIELD and the UN are planning on doing it differently."

Tony eyed him sharply. "It's still a government system and therefore corruptible. Don't tell me you won't take advantage of the control you'd have over mutants, especially. How many people will you experiment on 'for the greater good', Fury?"

Fury ignored him and continued, "The SHCA – Super-Human Credibility Act – is what SHIELD and the UN have been working on. The plan is to keep the database in UN or SHIELD hands instead of any one government, which should help prevent abuse of the information by any governments. The database will keep tabs on missing person reports and masked superhumans. If they're enemies of the state, the SHCA will help track them down, and if they're on the supposed side of the angels, SHIELD can find them, help them if necessary. There are also plans in the works for international schools for mutants and other young superhumans."

"So, what happens to someone who isn't registered if they're caught? Even if they're fighting the baddies? You can't honestly think I'll believe that you'll just let them go! I might agree that superhumans need some sort of control and the public deserves security, but if there's no way that will happen safely, I'd rather things stay as they are." Tony snapped.

Fury's emotions didn't even flicker. "They'll be given a fine of five hundred and registered in the database, if they haven't done anything beyond what's deemed necessary to keep themselves and others safe. This is already a compromise. There have been calls for mutants to be rounded up one by one and experimented on or have their powers removed. It's this or the fucking _end, _and I thought you'd know that better than anyone."

Tony knew that. He didn't have to like it.

"You really believe this will work," Tony muttered. "You really think all the superheroes and villains in the world will admit to who they are, just unmask themselves to the world. Any supervillian could just hack into the database and have the identity of every superhuman at their fingertips. Are you a _moron? _Jesus, Fury. Do you plan on tracking down every bloody mutant in the world and forcing them to register?"

"Stark, there's no preemptive search for super-human status in the SHCA. The only people we care about are those who will actually use their abilities to fight. We don't give a shit about the telekinetic housewife who uses her abilities to fold the laundry. We just want to keep the world safe from powers that the vast majority of the population has no defense against except for superheroes that have no true credibility. The SHCA database will be kept top secret, but if the people know that _someone _knows who these superhumans really are underneath the spandex and Kevlar, at the end of the day they'll feel safer."

Tony sat back and leveled Fury with an assessing look. He was, for once in his life, being at least honest. He truly believed that this was the best way and that a lot of superhumans would participate in the SHCA. Tony could easily see why the SHCA could be a good idea. It was like gun regulation; keeping tabs on potentially dangerous weapons. If the SHCA didn't pass, then it was really only a matter of time until the SHRA did, and the things he had heard about _that_ particular piece of legislation sounded distinctly more ominous. "Fine," he bit out. "But I want every single piece of information you have on the SHCA, every single _scrap. _And I'm making the firewalls for the database." Tony almost snorted at the quiet relief that ran through Fury. "Don't get too happy about it, Director. You're hurting your image."

Ah, there it was, the common and comfortable surge of anger and irritation, as familiar to Tony as an old friend would be. Fury felt like he was about to snap out something, but he stopped when the door opened, revealing the other four present members of the Avengers.

So instead, Fury merely instructed, "Take a seat. We've got a lot to cover."

The Avengers did so, but not before Thor boomed, "I demand that you tell us where our green friend is being held, Director of the Shield!"

Fury's jaw worked in a show of the mixture of exasperation and annoyance he was feeling as he appeared to attempt to formulate a suitable answer. "SHIELD is looking for Banner's current location as we speak. We suspect that wherever he is also holds some other mutants that have been less then cooperative with Richardson."

"What about the two men we captured?" Barton asked, brows drawing in as he slipped into his serious 'mission mode'.

"One of them, Michael, is just a lackey. He knows about nothing except for the base where Agent Romanov and Stark escaped and has no training. The other one is a professional of some sort – the leader of that little squad, at the very least - and he's not talking."

"You mean his mutation is making it difficult to interrogate him properly," Barton said flatly. "There's no need to soften your words here, Director."

"We'll crack him eventually," Fury answered resolutely.

Fine, but Tony didn't give a fuck about _eventually. _He wanted that information _now. _And with Bruce, the Avengers, and an unknown number of mutants on the line, he wasn't afraid to step on toes – or break them – to do what needed to be done. Tony slipped his tablet off the table and settled the thin piece of glass and machinery on to his lap before opening up the SHIELD mainframe with a couple taps of his fingers. He would have the location and access codes he needed within the minute. "Okay, so long story short, you've got nothing useful for us," sniped Tony as he stood up, tablet in hand and heading for the door. There was a flash of anger from everyone in the room.

Good.

Hopefully none of them ended up deciding it would be a good idea to follow him. Tony didn't want any of them to have to see this.

* * *

It took ten seconds for Natasha to figure out where Tony was going and another three to excuse herself with a quick, "I'll get him," and make her way down to the helicarrier's detainment cells. She stopped herself from running. Panicking or hurrying wouldn't do anyone any good.

Intellectually, Natasha knew what Tony could do. All the same, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when she pushed open the door where the apparent leader of their attackers was being held.

Tony was standing – no, to the _looming _– over the man they had captured. One of his gloves was off, and the ungloved hand cupped around the man's cheek in a calculated parody of gentleness. He was looking up at Tony, eyes wide and looking utterly terrified.

Tony drummed his fingers along the man's jaw and said, "I'll ask again. Where is Bruce Banner?"

Tony must have done something to the man's emotions, because he flinched so hard he could have broken something. A couple seconds later, he let out a rasping sob and a single tear trickled down his face.

_"Stop!" _the man pleaded.

It was revolting on some deep level, watching someone who by all accounts was a trained professional break down into a helpless mess by a simple touch.

"Not until you tell me where Dr. Banner is." Tony's voice was cold and unyielding. The man shivered violently and his breathing turned into ragged, gasping half-sobs.

"N-Nevada, twenty miles east of highway 238, hundred and fifty from the south border. _Just make it stop!_" the man stuttered out.

"How many prisoners, scientists, soldiers?"

"I-I don't know, maybe fifty scientists? A hundred soldiers? I _don't know!_"

Tony looked like he was about to ask another question, but he stopped and dropped his hand when the door opened. Nat shifted her position against the wall slightly so she could mostly face the entrance and Tony at the same time.

Fury stalked into the room, followed closely by Clint, Steve, and Thor. A nervous-looking junior agent quickly closed the door behind them.

"Stark –" Fury started.

Tony let out an angered sound that was half-sigh, half-snarl and touched the man again, doing something that made him fall backwards, boneless, into his chair. "I got the information. Is there a problem, Director?" Tony snapped.

Nat pursed her lips into a thin line. Now she understood another face of Tony Stark; he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, to manipulate and break his way into getting what he wanted.

And he was afraid of that.


	5. Chapter 5

**I apologize for the mess of the last chapter's A/N. It should have said **_**story **_**instead of **_**chapter. **_**Be forewarned that any and all X-Men canon/timelines have been blatantly ignored. Thanks again to all the lovely reviewers, and much love to my beta Maverick14.**

Chapter Summary: The sad thing is, rescuing his science bro from an evil mastermind is now normal. How did this become Tony's life?

* * *

_Having Everything yet Nothing_

_v_

* * *

Two days later, the team was as ready as it could be and they hitched a ride to Nevada on one of SHIELD's quinjets. Barton was piloting. Tension practically secreted from the walls; nobody on the team had been particularly comfortable with him after his display down in SHIELD's detainment center. Not even comfortable enough to ask what had really happened. Everyone had shoved the memory to the back of the minds, not wanting to dwell on it.

Not talking about it was something Tony could enjoy if the side effects didn't include his relationship with the team becoming so tense that something had to give, probably sooner than later. Tony had no illusions about how the rest of the team viewed him or the way they would react to the SHCA; this whole thing could only end two ways. Either the team would self-destruct and they'd all scatter to the four corners of the world, or it would just be Tony ejected from the Avengers. And frankly, the former wasn't an option. The world needed the Avengers. So Tony was just going to have to suck it up and learn to deal. He'd been alone for most of his life and he could go back to it. The process might hurt like a bitch, but it had to be done.

"We're in position. The autopilot is set up to take the quinjet back to the helicarrier once we're all out," Clint announced from the cockpit.

Cap nodded faintly in Clint's direction. "Everyone grab a parachute." He looked at Thor and Tony and amended, "If you need one."

Clint pressed a few buttons on the control panels to activate the autopilot before shucking off his headset and replacing it with the com system the Avengers used. He pressed a single button to open the jet's ramp and walked toward it, grabbing a parachute and shrugging it on to his back. Nat did the same.

"Iron Man, you're up first. Get out there and take out any guards you can see outside the compound. The rest of us will drop in and start clearing out the inside," Cap ordered.

"Roger, Rogers," Tony smirked before dive-bombing off the plan, repulsors raised and ready to go. He shot towards the compound Richardson was currently hiding in. It was all concrete squares and barbed-wire fencing, nothing pretty or imaginative about it. "I think we'll be doing humanity a favor by getting rid of this ugly-ass creation anyway. It's horrifying."

That earned him a couple muted flares of amusement, at least.

JARVIS switched the HUD into battle mode and the closest guards immediately popped into view via night-vision cameras and the best damn targeting technology in the world. "Show time," Tony muttered as he raised his repulsors and fired. "Cap, the front entrance is clear of human blockages. I'll circle around and let you know if I can find any noteworthy security systems."

"Good," Cap replied quickly. "We're going in. Iron Man, circle around and take care of anyone else you see before coming in."

"Sure," Tony assented, shooting off to the other end of the compound. He passed about three other guards on the way, and dispatched them with his repulsors and lasers. Tony flew up to do one final round of the compound, shot at two more guards and reported in, "Guards are all dealt with. I only saw a couple of security cameras, but there's not much I can do about that right now."

"Understood. Meet up with the rest of us," ordered Cap.

"Of course. I still have a score to settle with these bastards."

"Get in line," Nat replied flatly. Tony could easily visualize the small, easy smirk on her face.

"Can I cut?" he quipped back as he shut down the thrusters and landed in front of the busted-open entrance.

"Well, first you'd have to – what the? – Tony get your ass here, we've found the holding cells," Nat snapped.

"On my way, but I can't exactly fly inside," Tony pointed out irritably. "These halls are too narrow. JARVIS, directions to the Avengers' location?"

JARVIS immediately pulled up a three-dimensional map of the compound from god knows where and put it on the HUD. Four green dots signified the location of the other Avengers while his own noted in blue. JARVIS was _awesome. _

Tony ran down the halls, mechanical joints working seamlessly and almost silently (his footfalls, on the other hand, were anything but silent). He passed a couple collapsed bodies dressed in stereotypical black villain henchmen outfits. He turned the final corner and walked up to the rest of the Avengers, all in battle stance and watching their surroundings warily. "What's the situation?" asked Tony.

"We opened one door and released the person there, but before we could ask anything, he ran like a bat out of hell. Nat suggested we wait for you before trying that again," Barton said.

Tony nodded, raised his gauntlet at the closest of the three remaining closed doors in the hallway, and activated the lasers stored there. He cut through the metal around the lock and kicked the door open, relishing in the resounding smack of gold titanium alloy on steel. Tony stepped into the room, followed closely by the rest of his teammates.

The room was bare except for a bucket in the corner (unsanitary practices, Tony noted) and the steel exam table in the center of the room with a man in just his pants strapped to it with thick steel manacles. Barton walked forward and searched for a pulse with his fingers, and obviously found it, with the way the small knot of tension in his emotions unwound after a moment.

"He's alive," Barton confirmed.

Tony walked up to stand on the other side of the table, intending to break the manacles. But as soon as he caught a look at the man's face, he found himself pausing.

"What is it?" Nat asked from the door, tensing up again in preparation for an attack.

Half-shaved, brown hair – _lots _of hair, muscled, strange sideburns…yeah, his first impression was correct. "It's Wolverine. A member of the X-Men."

Barton raised an eyebrow at him. "An _X-Man _got caught?"

Tony's shrug didn't translate very well from within the suit. "Apparently. The X-Men will probably show up later. Their leader's a telepath; there's no way he didn't know where Wolverine was."

Cap was confused. "X-Men?" he asked.

"They're a superhero team of mutants centered around upstate New York. They run a school for mutants as well," explained Nat.

Tony could practically hear Cap thinking, _The future is _crazy. He would have agreed with Cap, except, well, he'd kind of grown up with most people's 'crazy' being the norm in multiple fields.

"I'll cut him out with my lasers, but we should probably leave before he wakes up," said Tony.

He resisted the urge to bash his head into the closest wall when he felt Cap's disapproval. Couldn't they just _listen _to him for once? And couldn't he figure out a way to say something without pissing fucking _everyone _off? "We can't just leave him here, Iron Man. He's on our side."

"But –"

_"No."_

"Man of Iron, I must agree with our Captain on this one. We cannot abandon a potential shield brother!" boomed Thor.

Well, that was that, then. It would be useless at this point to argue with Rogers and his damn _stubbornness._ And damn Thor too, while he was at it, for taking his side. Tony grimaced under the helmet and prepared his gauntlet lasers, taking careful aim so he wouldn't accidentally cut off Wolverine's fingers or toes as well as the steel manacles holding his limbs down. Tony severed the metal from the examination table piece by piece, taking his time to ensure he wouldn't accidentally injure Wolverine. When he was finished, he quickly shifted the man's limbs so he wouldn't burn himself on the hot metal and stepped back quickly. It proved to be a wise decision when Wolverine's nose twitched and his eyes snapped open a couple moments later.

Tony swore a blue streak and leapt forward when he felt Wolverine's aggression spike and reason fade away. He was too slow to stop him from extending his adamantium claws and lashing out at Barton, who only barely managed to avoid being literally torn to pieces but still ended up with three deep gashes through his stomach. Tony grabbed him by the arm and yanked him roughly out of the way. He'd probably just further aggravated Barton's wounds, but he'd rather that happen than anybody not in a suit of armor deal with Wolverine in this state. Now would be a _really_ good time for the X-Men to decide to show up. Charles would be able to snap Wolverine out of the PTSD-like attacks he was prone to. If it lasted for much longer, Tony was going to have to risk taking off one of his gauntlets and using his power in front of the Avengers. His stomach heaved at the thought.

Wolverine jumped off the table and landed in a low crouch, claws extended and lips drawn back into a feral snarl. Tony stepped forward, knowingly making himself the first target.

"Dear comrade, we wish you no harm! Please let go of thy weapons and speak to us!" commanded Thor.

Wolverine's aggression-tension-annoyance-worry ratcheted up a couple of notches. "Don't bother Goldilocks, he won't understand you in this state," Tony muttered.

Cap glanced between Tony and Wolverine warily, but he backed up anyway. "Tony…"

"This is where I get to say I told you so, by the way. Those claws are adamantium, even your shield will have trouble holding up to it," he snapped. He really should have expected everyone's irritation rising at that. Fuck, was he even capable of positively interacting with _anyone?_

Tony scowled at himself and forcibly directed his attention towards the matter at hand. Good thing, too, because Wolverine had chosen that moment to attack. Tony managed to dance out of the way and remained uninjured; the same could not be said for the suit. One of Wolverine's claws had caught at the edge of one metal plate over his hip and casually torn it off like it was nothing more than paper. Shit. He grimly raised his hands and activated his gauntlet repulsors. Charles couldn't be _too _mad. He'd said Wolverine had an advanced healing factor, which was probably about to become really handy. As long as Tony didn't kill him, Charles probably wouldn't be that pissed. Probably. He prepared to fire, but paused when he felt five distinct emotional emerge from the background hubbub of the compound. They were close, probably just down the hallway, and they were fast. One of the signatures was expanding in his mind's eye, taking up a larger amount of space then it should. And it seemed – controlled. Telepathy, maybe. He hoped rather fervently that it was the X-Men and not another telepath Richardson had managed to conscript. He'd seen the chaos they could cause first-hand, and he really had no urge to fight one and find out how he would fare. Okay, that was a lie, maybe he was just a _little _curious, but still. Not the time.

Tony would never admit to the tiny sigh of relief he let out when the door was wrenched back (almost off of its hinges, someone had to work on anger control) and exposed the five of the current X-Men that had come on this rescue mission. Jean Grey, telepathic and telekinetic, Scott Summers, concussive eye-beams, Bobby Drake, ice manipulator, Ororo Munroe, weather manipulator, and Charles Xavier, telepathic, and basically leader of the mutant community.

The earlier expanding burst of someone's emotional signature – Tony was pretty sure it was Charles - strengthened and wrapped around Wolverine like some sort of psychic blanket. The aggression and animalistic fury that had been radiating from him earlier tampered down immediately to a more normal level, and the beginnings of rationality began to unfurl.

"I apologize for Logan's behavior," Charles apologized. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Avengers. Tony, it's good to see you again."

Tony inclined his head in greeting. "Charles. When'd the leather fetish happen?" he asked light-heartedly, referring to the identical black leather outfits the X-Men wore.

"I assure you I have no idea what you're talking about," chuckled Charles. "You should come and visit us at the mansion sometime. But right now, we need to care for Logan and the others that were injured in the attack. I trust that your team can finish off this base?"

Tony twitched uncomfortably at the 'your team'. Cap was the leader, not him, and there was no way that was going to change; but the other Avengers didn't necessarily know that last part. He wouldn't be shocked if at least a couple of them thought he wanted the position as leader; it wasn't like he ever unquestioningly followed Cap's orders and he made no secret of it when they disagreed. God knew he was shit at showing he cared – most of the time, people ended up convinced that he actually disliked the people and things he lo-_liked. _

"Of course," Cap stepped forward. "I understand. SHIELD may come to question you later, though, after all of this is cleaned up."

Wolverine was obviously feeling better, because he stumbled to his feet with Jean Grey's help and snarled, "You government lackeys better keep your fucking noses outta X-Men business or you'll be missin' a limb or two." Tony could already tell that he was the kind of person he'd either get along with really well or want to kill in the most brutal way possible.

Cap startled at the X-Man's vicious outburst. "We are a response team, not part of the government. We answer to SHIELD, the UN's intelligence and antiterrorism division," he explained gently. Wolverine's wariness didn't decrease, but at least he didn't continue snarling like a rabid dog. Jesus, was there anything Cap _couldn't _do? Fucker.

"We should go. The ones who haven't left are organizing something. They're blocking the specifics with some sort of psychic shielding or scrambler. I'm not sure how to break it," Grey announced. Charles nodded at Munroe, who started out of the room followed closely by Summers and Drake.

"I will personally take care of anyone we come across," Munroe said over her shoulder, her voice smooth and deep like honey. Tony bet it would be really good-tasting honey. Oh_kay, _apparently he needed to get laid, because that was a bit creepy, even for him. Waxing poetics about complete strangers was not a commonplace occurrence in his mind, no matter what the rest of the world thought.

Suddenly, Charles' head jerked back to look at Cap. "They turned on the self-destruct option."

Anger, frustration, and a little bit of fear pulsed through Cap's words, "What about the other mutants? How long do we have?"

"There's this hallway and one more. Five minutes," Charles muttered. "Scott, blast open what you can. Jean, I need you to help me release the other mutants. The rest of you, get back to the X-Jet and fly over here to pick us up."

Drake nodded, and started to forcibly drag Wolverine along when it looked like he might resist. "Sure thing, Professer," Drake said. Munroe followed the duo silently as they raced out the door. The second group of X-Men wasn't far behind them.

"Doctor Banner is in the third cell in the next hall," Charles said. "We'll take care of the others."

Cap nodded. "Thanks. Clint, call the quinjet and get it on standby. We're gonna have to move fast. Thor, Iron Man, go get Bruce. Once you find him, meet up with us immediately. Got it?"

"Of course, Captain," thundered Thor. "Come along, Man of Iron, we must find our companion!"

Tony grimaced, but nodded. "JARVIS, five percent power to the leg motors," he ordered sharply, and sped off to the hallway where they were keeping Bruce.

* * *

Natasha's face was set into grim lines as she stood aside the open belly of the quinjet, hovering just above the compound. "One minute flat," she muttered to herself. "Move it, Stark."

This whole damn situation was one giant fucked up explosion waiting to happen. She didn't have to have Tony's abilities to feel the tension pulsing between him and the rest of the team. While Tony was many things, a good diplomat was not one of them unless a business deal was on the line or he could thoroughly blackmail the other party into doing what he wanted. Of course, he could calm the situation down with a little bit of skin contact if he so wished, but she knew that was one line he would never cross.

Natasha wasn't like Tony. She couldn't predict the future with math equations and fluctuating emotions like he could. But she did know one thing; something had to give, and soon. She could only hope that the fallout wouldn't leave anything at a point beyond repair. She wasn't a futurist, but she was a realist. Natasha knew _exactly _how unlikely that was, so she checked her Widow's Bites and waited for the other half of the Avengers to get their asses into the damn jet to avoid thinking about it.

All she knew was that Tony would bear the brunt of the backlash from this mess. Maybe he'd survive it – maybe the Avengers would survive it. But maybe not. It killed her, but all she could do was wait and see how things turned out. Damn Howard and whatever force had put the mutation in Tony's genes. Damn them all.


	6. Chapter 6

_Having Everything yet Nothing_

_vi_

* * *

Kitty was curled up in a corner in one of the many couches situated in what she referred to as the "Room for Team Meetings That Do Not Involve Things Trying to Kill Us No. 2 out of 5". She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and resisted the urge to pout at her laptop. The new voice recognition system she was trying to build for the X-Jet was so _stubborn. _Kitty looked up from the screen when she heard quick footsteps heading in her direction.

It was Rogue. She flung the door open, white-streaked hair dangling around her face. "The others are back," she happily announced. "I just saw the X-Jet touch down."

Kitty straightened her back. "Is Logan - ?"

_"Logan is fine," _Jean told her telepathetically. _"Grouchy as usual, but uninjured, unless you count his ego. As far as we can tell, they didn't do anything more drastic then sedate him and take some blood." _

Kitty nodded slowly, even though she knew Jean couldn't see it. Logan would be sulking for the next couple of days and thoroughly denying it, but he would be all right. That was good. _"Anything happen?" _asked Kitty.

_"We'll see." _Jean sounded…hesitant. Kitty frowned at Rogue, who just shrugged. They were probably equally in the dark about whatever had occurred on the rescue mission.

"I tried to find Kurt, but he kind of disappeared," Rogue added. "No telling where he is now at this point."

Kitty giggled a bit at that. It was a bit of an understatement.

Bobby chose that moment to walk through the door, hair disheveled but looking otherwise unharmed. Jean, Scott, Logan, Ororo, and the Prof were just behind him. None of them looked any worse for wear. A lot of the tension in Kitty's shoulders unknotted at that. "Welcome back, soldiers!" Kitty laughed, performing a mock salute.

Logan gave a small snicker and sank down into the closest armchair. "Damn drugs. What'd they stick me with, enough for a fuckin' elephant herd?" he griped.

"Probably," Prof answered, looking vaguely amused.

"So, we ran into the Avengers," grinned Bobby.

"Seriously?" Rogue squeaked. "What were they doing, dealing with Richardson?"

"They kidnapped the Hulk," Scot answered. "Who knows why he thought that would bring about anything but trouble."

Richardson had kidnapped the _Hulk? _On what universe was that a good idea, and how had it even happened in the first place, anyway? Then again, they had managed to get their hands on Logan…

"It was strange. I couldn't get a read on Iron Man – couldn't even sense him," frowned Jean.

Okay, so that was weird too. "You mean Tony Stark? Do you think he has a scrambler like Magneto's built into his helmet or something?" Kitty suggested.

"No, normally I can still sense a presence with that kind of technology. I couldn't feel him at all, it was like nobody was there. That's only happened a couple of times before when Charles or Emma Frost were completely shielding themselves," Jean explained.

Ororo glanced at Jean for a moment before turning to Prof and asking, "Charles, you seemed to have met him before. Do you know what that was?"

Prof closed his eyes for a moment, a habit Kitty noticed when he was concentrating on something that he couldn't see. "I mentioned once, when I was just starting the X-Men, a powerful empathy that I hoped would join us. Later, I told you that he said no. I didn't mention that he has helped provide a lot of the gear and tech we use. Nor did I say that he was Tony Stark."

The room practically exploded with noise.

_"What -?" _

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me - !"

"Tony _Stark _is a mutant?"

"– something earlier, Hank would have been _ecstatic –"_

"And here I thought you were going to break it to them gently," a dry, sarcastic voice called out over the din of the X-Men.

Kitty looked over and saw Tony Stark, Iron Man, self-declared genius, billionaire, playboy, Avenger, philanthropist, leaning casually against the wall in a suit, tie missing and top button of his pressed white shirt unbuttoned. His hands were gloved in some strange black material that looked like it had metal woven into it. For a forty-year-old, he didn't look too shabby. The goatee could use some work, though. It looked kind of strange. And creepy.

"Tony stark, creator of everything from miniature arc reactors to bionic prosthetics to the handful of operation AIs in the world, was a mutant. And he was standing in the doorway. Holy shit.

Kitty had a new suspicion about where Prof's fancy wheelchairs came from.

Mr. Stark stepped forward, ignoring the disbelieving/shocked/wary stares of the other X-Men. He handed Prof a featureless black leather portfolio, and said seriously, "We need to talk. Alone."

Logan jumped up and stepped in front of Prof, "Sorry Bub, you can't just walk in here and tell us to jump and expect we well. Anythin' you have to say to the Professor, you can say infronta the rest of us."

Mr. Stark stared neutrally at Logan. "I highly doubt you'd shut up long enough for me to say what has to be said, and I really do _hate _interruptions."

Okay, so the tabloids hadn't been necessarily lying – he was an asshole, at least some of the time. The sarcasm in that sentence was so blatant it could almost be cut with a knife. Kitty could practically feel Logan's metaphorical hackles rising.

"Just a rich boy whose money bought him some fancy armor. You think you're better than us, ignoring your genetics, denying them? Newsflash: you ain't. You're just a coward behind a tin mask and a bunch of lies," Logan snarled. He poked Mr. Stark in the chest with a single, large finger. "Just 'cause you're some sorta manipulator don't mean jack shit to me. So you can just tell us straight why the hell you're here, 'cause I an't listenin' to someone like _you _giving me orders."

Mr. Stark didn't even blink at Logan's tirade, and Kitty had to give him some credit for that. Something hardened in his jaw as he reached up with a single hand and shoved Logan's away from his shirt. "Hands off, I hate dry-cleaning. And trust me, this shirt costs way more then you could afford to replace." Mr. Stark's tone was light and falsely friendly as his grip on Logan's hand tightened momentarily before letting go.

Kitty hadn't even noticed him taking one of his gloves off.

Logan let out a low growl charged with some sort of unfamiliar emotion that Kitty couldn't place and backed away hastily.

"Empathy isn't like telepathy. It's not a foreign force controlling your thoughts, something you can recognize, something you can fight against. It's just your own emotions rebelling on you. It's fighting against your own instincts," Mr. Stark said quietly, staring Logan down. It was – intimidating. There was no other way to put it.

Kitty watched Logan's expression carefully. There was the same wild look behind his eyes as when he fell into that berserker state of his, but the set of his mouth and the tight lines between his eyebrows were different and strange-looking on his face. Kitty tired to figure it out, and then – oh. _Oh. _Wow.

Logan – Logan, of all people! – was scared of Tony Stark. Terrified, even. Kitty looked sideways at Mr. Stark with newfound respect. If he could scare _Logan, _probably the most fearless person ever to grace the face of the planet (and with good reason) with a single touch, then his mutation definitely wasn't anything to sneeze at.

"So, we need to talk," Tony repeated. This time, nobody interrupted him.

Prof nodded. "This way," and led him out of the room, presumably towards one of the other rooms.

Something twisted in her gut, nervously worrying over why someone like Tony Stark would need to speak to Prof at a time like this.

Kitty ignored it and asked brightly, "So! Who's up for Monopoly?"

* * *

Nat waited for Tony to walk over to the bar from the elevator before she made her presence known. He almost jumped when she said, "What spurred the visit to the X-Men?"

"Can't I just visit an old friend?" Tony remarked automatically. They both knew that wasn't the real reason he went to the Westchester Mansion.

Nat just leaned one hip on the counter, raised an eyebrow, and waited. Tony sighed and poured himself and glass of whiskey. He suspected he'd need it for the following conversation. "Have you heard anything about the SHRA?"

Nat frowned and picked up a glass of vodka that had been sitting on the marble for longer than Tony had been in the building. "Fury mentioned it a couple of times, but he said something else would take care of it."

"Yeah, well – the SHRA was bad, but it's nothing compared to Project Wide Awake. The SHCA, it's a hell of a lot closer to the ideal. People like us and the X-Men need to be responsible for our actions. There needs to be training. There needs to be a central leadership for the superhuman community. Letting people with powers like ours run about with no direction is just asking for chaos. We're lucky nothing too big has happened yet."

"So the SHCA is the UN's response to the recent proliferation of metahumans."

Tony nodded.

"A metahuman SHIELD?"

"SHOC – SuperHuman Organization Core. Pretty much."

"Some established superhumans – and teams – won't like that."

"Nat, if everyone was a morally sound and rational human being like Cap, we wouldn't _need _something like this. But we're not. It's because he's so determined to see the good in everyone that he'll fight this the hardest out of the Avengers, even harder then Bruce. But this is something that _needs _to happen. If we carry on like this, normal humans will eventually stop trusting us after the novelty wears off. We need to show them that we follow the same rules they do, that we're worthy of their trust…or it'll turn into a witch hunt." Tony really didn't want to think about why he had immediately brought Cap into the conversation.

Nat nodded slowly. "How long until it's pushed through?"

"It already has been. Fury's just waiting to talk to the Avengers about it officially. I get to smooth things over with the Fantastic Four. I've told the X-Men about it."

Nat was silent for a moment, staring Tony down like prey as she often did when she was trying to figure something out. "Fury wants you to be the director, doesn't he?"

Tony snorted. "He hasn't said as much, but I got the impression I might be on his list. I can't imagine why. He'd be better off going with Cap."

"You'd do what needs to be done, no matter the cost. Cap couldn't do that."

He knew intimately what she meant by that, and the consequences of it. "Yeah, well. Maybe that's a good thing. We're superheroes, not assassins. SHIELD can deal with that shit. Besides, it's not exactly common knowledge that I'm a mutant, and without that I'm just a normal rich businessman with a fancy metal suit."

"And that's why Fury's considering you for the position. You're the only one that straddles both worlds. As far as most of us are concerned, you're the only person that's totally human, but you're not exactly powerless, either. Civilians would feel better if someone they can relate to is in charge, and you could provide that."

"Going by that argument, Cap would still be a better option. I do some stupid shit, Nat, and you've seen some of it. Putting me in charge of something that big and important is just asking for trouble. I have zero qualifications for it, anyway." Not to mention the fact that he'd hate the job so much he'd take every route possible to get out of it. "I'd be bad at it and I don't want it," Tony concluded.

"Like it or not, you are a good option. You have a life in both the metahuman and civilian worlds, you get along with the mutant community, you'd sell your soul to the devil if you thought something good would come of it," Nat shrugged.

"I won't do it. I'll tell him no and that I think Cap would do a much better job as long as there's someone there to remind him that you can't always do things the ethical way. He's a natural leader and far less likely to piss off people we need to ally with – accidentally or on purpose. Why are you fighting this so hard, anyway? I'm not even qualified for a position like this."

Nat looked him straight in the eye and said honestly, "Because I'd rather have someone in charge who'd sell their soul to do the right thing then someone who'd refuse to do that and keep fighting a useless battle."

Tony sighed. "Just get Fury to appoint you as second-in-command or something. I can't afford the pay cut anyway."

They both laughed a bit as their conversation moved on to less serious subjects.

The next day, Tony called up Reed Richards and told him about the SHCA.

"Well, I can't say I wasn't expecting something like this to happen eventually. We just want to keep our home safe. If you think this will help do that, the Fantastic Four will have your back."

This so far unanimous show of support was putting Tony off-balance. He wasn't used to people trusting him without…outside influence. People trusted Iron Man more then they trusted the Merchant of Death. It was stupid – they were the same faulty, immoral person. But no one else seemed capable of seeing that.

Tony checked the knot on his tie, making sure it was tight and neat. Next up on the agenda for the SHCA and SHOC – the Avengers.

Bruce was going to be pissed. Cap was going to try and take his head off.

Fun.

* * *

That turned to be a vast understatement. Tony was glad Thor was currently on Asgard – he wouldn't have enjoyed the idea either. Thor wouldn't like it when he came back to Earth, either, but he was less likely to be vocal and violent about it if the rest of them weren't still arguing over it.

"Absolutely not!" Bruce snarled.

Tony flinched when Bruce slammed his fist down onto the glass conference table. He trusted Bruce not to lose control, but the anger-fear-disappointment-denial-hate the doctor was projecting was smotheringly potent.

Cap wasn't far behind, stubbornness-anger-refusal rising to the surface of his emotional fingerprint. "There has to be a better option than this. Requiring superheroes to forfeit their identity and give up their autonomy is like serving them up on a silver platter to the next technologically advanced criminal!"

"Captain, once someone enters this lifestyle they give up the option of safety," Fury argued calmly.

"This way, there can also be a support system for people who choose to use their abilities to fight back. Take Spiderman, for example, our local street-level hero; do you think he's ever gotten counseling for watching people die in front of him?" Tony pointed out, doing his best to keep the atmosphere calm and rational.

"They should have the _choice! _Do you really think most people start using their powers because they _want _to? Hell, most of us didn't get to choose this. God knows I didn't," objected Bruce.

Tony viciously stomped down the urge to shrink back into his seat and avoid the overwhelmingly volatile emotions swirling through the room. "Bruce –" he began.

Cap spoke over him, "Bruce is right. When does this stop? What's next, special tattoos based on what type of powers someone has? Special residential areas for superhumans?"

"SHOC will be headed and composed completely of metahumans. Anything after the creation and charter of the Core will be decided by the superhuman community," Nat broke in. "This isn't the Holocaust, Captain. We won't let it turn into something like that."

Cap seemed to calm at least a little bit at Nat's placating tone, and opened his mouth to say something else. Fury cut in before he could. "You might not like it, but it's already decided. The best you can do right now is shut the hell up, sit the fuck down, and figure out how to keep things from getting out of control from within. The WSC is fully capable of hunting down everyone in this room like a damn dog if we decide to disagree, and trust me, Captain, you won't like that."

Tony could practically feel Cap's teeth grinding together, but he did as Fury had suggested (hah, more like ordered) and didn't say anything else. Cap was furious, but he probably knew this was one fight he couldn't win.

"The WSC wants one of you crazy little freaks of nature to be the Director, since you're already allied with SHIELD and by extension, the UN. You'll be in charge of whatever happens within SHOC, so stop bitching because this could be a hell of a lot worse than it is. Stark, what've you got from the X-Men and Fantastic Four?" Fury finished.

Tony straightened up in his chair and announced, "The X-Men want to retain their more secretive habits, but most of their identities aren't a secret anyway, so Charles said that they'd probably cooperate. I talked to Reed earlier, and he said the Fantastic Four wouldn't have a problem with it as long as they maintained some of their autonomy."

"And how much of that is based on whether or not you become Director?"

Fury was serious and slightly amused (probably by his predictions of the other Avengers' reactions, the bastard). Tony glared at him. He did not want the position, damnit, and he wasn't qualified for it as far as the rest of the world knew. Only Nat and Fury knew of his status as a mutant and former SHIELD operative – oh fuck. No. Fury didn't have any of Tony's files left in the SHIELD mainframe, he had _checked._ Fury was _not _going to out Tony to the rest of his team. "None of it. The X-Men want a mutant in charge, and the Fantastic Four want someone with at least a passing knowledge of military structure."

Understanding welled up in Nat instantly. Fury was his usual self, a smug asshole. Everyone else was at least a little confused and surprised, probably because Fury had basically just implied that Tony was the first choice for the founding Director of SHOC.

Fury moved in for the kill. He leaned forward slightly and said, "Then you meet all the requirements, don't you?"

Nat almost jumped up. "Director –" she protested.

"What the hell are you talking about, Sir?" frowned Barton.

Goddamnit. He should have known Fury would end up pulling something like this. He should have fucking _known. _Fury produced a thick manila folder and opened it. Paper. Of-fucking-_course. _He recognized the first page – the unique DNA sequence that gave Tony his abilities and some of Howard's musings on it.

Tony shoved his chair back and flet from the room as fast as he could without running.

* * *

Tony managed to avoid the other Avengers and the facts that the X-Men refused to cooperate with the SHCA unless Tony or Charles was in charge of SHOC and Reed had sever difficulties communicating with anyone other than Tony or the other members of his team (talking in math generally put people off unless you'd known them for a while or you understood what they were saying) for about five days before someone convinced JARVIS to override the lockdown. It wasn't Nat – she had been sent away on a week-long mission for SHIELD almost immediately after what Tony had decided to call The Meeting, and wouldn't be back for at least another day. The emotional fingerprint was still familiar. Tony sighed and put a quick screenlock on the holograph of the arc reactor powering the Avengers Tower he was working with. "My time is expensive, make it snappy," Tony bitched before turning around to confirm who had entered his domain. It was Cap, as Tony had guessed, looking sheepish.

"I just thought we should talk," said Cap after a moment he had used to ground himself. Tony couldn't discern his intentions, so he did what he always did – he lashed out.

"About what? Worried I've been manipulating you? Pissed I had secrets? Disappointed your dear old pal Howard turned out to be a dick? You're going to have to be more specific, Cap," Tony spat out. He was in no mood to deal with the general disappointment that permeated the air whenever Cap so much as spoke to him.

Cap sucked in a heavy breath and smothered the quick flare of anger that appeared with Tony's words. "No, but I think maybe we need to have a discussion about why you think I would want to say things like that," he said.

Tony crossed his arms and scowled at Cap. "Why are you here then, if you're not going to go all 'I'm the goddamn Captain America' righteous bullshit?"

"First, to talk about how your new position will affect us on the field," sighed Cap. He ignored the last part of Tony's question. "Until now I've been leading the team in that area, and I need to know if this is going to change that."

Tony let out a highly undignified snort before he deemed it appropriate to answer. "I rebel because I can, Cap, not because I want to have the responsibility of leadership. I made Pepper my CEO for a reason. The only reason I didn't tell Fury to fuck off and make you Director is that Charles told me the X-Men would only agree to have a mutant in that position."

Cap nodded slowly, slightly amused and trying to fight it, and Tony tried to ignore the traces of relief there. Hesitance welled up in Cap again, and Tony thought for a moment that he might have actually been shuffling his feet. "I also want to apologize."

Tony stared. Cap wasn't lying; the earnest, honestly regretful feelings Tony could pick up from him made that much instantly clear. "What the hell are you talking about? You haven't done anything," Tony said roughly.

And there it was, that familiar drop of disappointment, and Tony didn't even know what he'd done to deserve it this time. He settled for glaring holes in Cap's shirt.

Cap let out a quiet, sad sigh. "For that. Whenever I look at you, the first thing I see is how almost everyone you've known has failed you. I mean, I read your file, I know about Stane and Tiberius Stone and Howard, Fury told us a little about what he did yesterday. I – I hate the hand you've been dealt. You deserve more."

Tony stared blankly at Cap, and let his mouth run before he could really think that through. "I count cards. And most people would disagree with you."

Cap smiled a little at that, at least. "Well, they're wrong. And I'm sorry that you felt you couldn't tell us you were a mutant and we got off on the wrong foot. Truce?"

Tony couldn't help but grin a little at that. "Sure thing, Cap."

"I think it's high time you got around to calling me Steve, Tony."

Something warm and happy curled in Tony's gut, hopefully to stay. He didn't examine it too closely. "Steve, then."

Steve's answering grin made the stress of the last week totally worth it.

* * *

Peter had just finished shoving his math binder back into his backpack so the zipper wouldn't come undone when the substitute, Ms. Randolf, called, "Mr. Parker, would you please stay behind? There's something we need to discuss."

Peter groaned inwardly. The last time a teacher had asked him to stay behind, they'd accused him of cheating because of one too many 100% test scores. It wasn't _his _fault the tests were made for morons!

When the last student filed out of the room, Ms. Randolf beckoned him over with an elegant flick of her fingers. Peter walked over to her position by the whiteboard reluctantly. Ms. Randolf pulled something out of her wallet – two ID cards. Peter glanced at them; they looked like some sort of government-issued ID, but they weren't from any organization or division he recognized. She smiled at him, purposefully disarming. Peter tensed. His spider-sense wasn't going off, but much, _much _better to be safe than sorry.

"My name is Natasha Romanov. I work for the U.N.-sponsored Shield – Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, Logistics Division. I'm here on behalf of Shock, the Superhuman Organization Core, to talk to you about Spiderman.


	7. Chapter 7

_vii_

* * *

_Having Everything yet Nothing_

* * *

As Tony stormed out of the room, Natasha awaited for the folder to be picked up and the subsequent implosion. She tensed automatically as Steve frowned, looking confused, and pulled the folder closer so he could read it. Clint nudged his chair towards Steve so he could read the documentation over his shoulder. Bruce stayed a polite distance away but Natasha saw him adjust his glasses and squint slightly. She watched them all stonily.

On one hand, they should have been told of Tony's mutation despite its dormancy at the very beginning. It was clear that Fury had kept the file as some form of insurance against Tony. On the other hand, with his past it was no surprise that Tony preferred to keep his ability a secret and with his status as a wild-card, it was understandable that the Director wished to have some form of control over him. But what was done was done, and there was no point in worrying over whether or not it should have happened. It was a question of how the others would react now. Realistically, Natasha knew that none of them were likely to react badly, but that couldn't offset the protective instincts Tony had awakened within her. She felt inexplicably like an older sister taking care of her adorable, hapless younger sibling despite the fact that Tony was as far from adorable as it was possible to be and he was a good seven years her senior.

As Steve read through the first page, Natasha catalogued the deepening of his scowl and the divot between his furrowed brows. She knew it was Steve's opinion that would matter to Tony the most besides perhaps Bruce; he greatly respected and liked their captain, even if he refused to acknowledge it.

Clint was scanning the papers, a completely dumbfounded look gracing his face. It was surprisingly endearing. Natasha could practically hear the gears clicking in his head as his assumptions realigned, moving things around for this new perspective of Tony Stark. His face slowly began to harden in anger and she figured they had started to read the mission reports.

Bruce had always been hard for Natasha to read due to his practice in controlling himself, but she knew enough to know the hard, angry-sad steel behind his eyes was not a good sign for anyone who got in his way any time soon.

Steve looked like he might be sick. Natasha imagined that all of this information would be a radical world shift for him. Howard Stark had been a good friend of his during the war and he'd overlooked Tony as a simple rich, spoiled brat too many times to count. Natasha hoped knowing this would finally allow the whole team to look past Tony's defenses and see the man he really was. God knows she hadn't been able to stand him until they'd been stuck in the same cell by Richardson's men.

About halfway through the folder, Steve finally shoved his chair back. His open face was portraying a complicated mixture of emotions that even Tony might not be able to untangle and examine properly. Disgust. Horror. Sadness. Anger. Disappointment. It wasn't hard for Natasha to guess that he was headed off to the gym to take out his frustration on a couple of Kevlar-reinforced punching bags on the gym deck.

Clint took this as his cue to stop reading as well. He slapped the folder shut, pulled one of the arrows out of his quiver and began to gnaw at it, an old nervous tic that only appeared when he was particularly tense. Bruce looked twitchy and wary. It was understandable and predictable that he'd be uncomfortable with the idea of an empath on the team, no matter how much he trusted them.

"Tony is a very private person. I trust you both to understand that he is the same man he was when we first fought together. A _good _man," Natasha said as she got to her feet and made her way to the jet deck. There was nothing else she could say here, and Tony needed her support right now.

When she hopped down the stairs from the landing pad to Tony's penthouse, Natasha found him nursing a cold glass of whiskey. She poured herself one of the same and sat down next to him. Nothing was said, but they took comfort in each other's presence. Natasha could only hope it would be enough for him to weather the storm she knew was coming.

It took a week for her to get fed up with them. Watching Thor (recently returned from Asgard), Clint, Bruce, and Steve tiptoe around Tony who did his best to hide from the whole lot of them was unbearable. They were morons, all five of them. _Men. _

She sprung her trap on Steve while he was distracted by making breakfast. Skulking into the kitchen, Natasha waited until he turned his back to lean against the counter behind where he was mixing up a bowl of muffin batter. "So," she started suddenly, and waited for his reaction.

Steve immediately jumped and twisted around to face her. He relaxed once he realized who she was and graced her with a sheepish smile. "Sorry Natasha, you surprised me. Do you need something?"

Natasha cut to the chase. "You need to talk to Tony. He's certainly not going to come up here and do it himself, so you have to corner him in his lab. Tell him it's all okay. Apologize. Start over and start out on the right foot this time." It wasn't a list of suggestions but orders.

Steve stared at her steadily, carefully masking whatever he was thinking. He could be surprisingly unreadable when he wanted to. Natasha didn't back down and crooked an eyebrow as she waited for a response.

"I…yeah," he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll talk to him."

She didn't move.

"I promise."

Natasha acknowledged him with a sharp nod and prepared to wait for the results of their conversation. Eleven hours later, Tony finally surfaced from his man-cave to fix himself something to eat. The rest of the team ended up joining him for an early dinner. His cautiousness melted away quickly when the rest of the team made a sincere effort to treat him no differently or better then they had before. The indefinable tension that had Tony constantly at odds with Steve had also lessened considerably, which had a rather pleasant side effect of making everyone else less tense. The atmosphere was open and cheerful as if the airing of Tony's dirty laundry had been a catalyst for the relaxation of everyone's barriers. Despite Tony's relative quiet, it was comfortable. It felt disgustingly like coming home or something equally sappy.

Judging by Tony's amused gaze, he knew exactly what she was feeling. Natasha responded with an exasperated glare. He only laughed.

She couldn't bring herself to get all that mad. She could get used to this domestic calm, really. It was surprisingly nice.

* * *

The next few months were ridiculously free of evil megalomaniacs trying to take over the world. Normally such tranquility after a long period of relative activity would have sent Tony spiraling downwards into destructive boredom and irritation. However, the details of founding SHOC were taking up all his spare time. (Sleep? What was sleep?) Something like SHOC required an almost obscene amount of effort to get off the ground. Funding, membership, training, placement, command positions…the list went on and on and _on. _ What it added up to, really was a whole lot of paperwork for Tony. He thought he'd left this shit behind when he made Pepper CEO of Stark Industries. Apparently not. It was like the damned stuff was haunting him.

And then there was Richardson. Nobody had heard from him since the Avenger-X-Men raid on one of his bases, and that was what was worrying Tony. Richardson was unpredictable at best (a side-effect of being somewhat mentally unhinged, he was pretty certain) and without accurate, up-to-date information, it was proving impossible to predict his plans and movements. With a virtual army of rogue mutants at his disposal, that was a very Bad Thing. He'd gone so far underground that nobody from SHIELD could find him. Admittedly, Richardson probably knew all of their methods, which didn't really help. There were too many was to avoid facial and gait recognition even without going into high-tech solutions. Finding someone with Richardson's resources was a lot harder than simply following them.

Within the Avengers themselves, things were more relaxed then a sunbathing housecat. Clint's furious jealousy had faded away down to almost nothing. Thor was cheerful and loud as ever and he made an effort to convince Tony to play the Wii with him. Bruce was still quiet, but he puttered around Tony's lab more often than he had before. Being around Steve was just _easier_ than it had been before with all the things that had been left unsaid between them now out in the open. Steve knew why he had authority and daddy issues by the boatload and as a result was no longer bumbling through a minefield blind but navigating it wisely. For his part, Tony was doing his best not to bait Cap – or any of the other Avengers, for that matter. But mostly Cap. He had no wish to overturn this newfound fragile peace.

The words on his tablet screen were starting to blur in front of his eyes. Tony groaned and rubbed at his temples. He could feel his earlier migraine preparing to return with vengeance.

"Captain Rogers would like you to know he has dinner ready," JARVIS announced.

Oh thank _God. _Tony would take just about an excuse for a break at this point and Steve's all-American junk food was _heavenly. _Tony's mouth almost watered as he remembered the milkshakes from last week.

By the time Tony reached the communal kitchen, everyone except for Nat was either eating or in the process of heaping their plates with food. Everyone looked dead on their feet; they were all exhausted from their personal projects for SHOC. Bruce had the utterly _delightful _job of creating charts and data sets on mutant medical treatment for SHIELD's med team, which would be working with SHOC until they had enough doctors that met their memebership requirements. Thor was partnered with his astrophysicist girlfriend to create a stable method of traveling to and from Asgard. Steve was negotiating recruitment with a superhuman teenage duo – they couldn't have been more then seventeen in the pictures Tony had seen – called Cloak and Dagger. Clint was splitting his time between scouting out possible superhumans and observing whether they were friendly or decidedly _not. _Nat was acting as a go-between for all the major groups within SHOC, currently the X-Men, Fantastic Four, and Avengers.

Tony had already inhaled his hamburger and mashed potatoes and was now poking half-heartedly at his oversized portion of steamed broccoli. Broccoli was_ evil. _The whole species had a masterplan to take over the world by turning humans into mindless health nuts one bite at a time. JARVIS even had a file on it, so it _must _be true. JARVIS never lied.

Nat chose that moment to waltz (now there was a word Tony had never thought would describe her) into the room, looking rather smugly pleased with herself. Thor looked up and beamed whole-heartedly at her. "What is it you mortals say? The feline that feasted upon the songbird?" he said. Loudly, of course, but it was _Thor_, so the volume was kind of implied.

Clint snorted around his mouthful of potatoes and corrected, "The cat that got the canary, big guy."

There was no deny that Nat was amused about _something. _"What's got you in such a good mood?" asked Tony. If he remembered correctly, Nat had been helping the X-Men compile information on Magneto and the rest of the Brotherhood today, which couldn't have been a pleasant or easy task given the number of people involved and their emotional involvement with the subject.

Nat shrugged lightly before settling down with her food next to Clint and directly across from Tony. "It would seem that metal skeletons amplify the effects of the Widow's Bites," she said in a devil-may-care tone that was slightly disturbing coming from Nat. Which was understandable as the things that made her feel so carefree and relaxed tended to fall along the lines of torturing her mortal enemies. (Or origami, but she would never admit it and Tony wasn't stupid enough to tell anyone.)

It took him a moment to figure out what she meant by that, but when he did he agreed heartily with her mirth. "Logan is a dick," Tony agreed, and half-smirked.

"Understatement," Nat muttered into her food. "Misogynistic bastard. Even _you _were never that bad."

Tony…okay, yeah, he pouted. He was a man-child and everyone had long ago given up and denying that. "I take offense to that. At least I'm not _hairy._"

Nat rolled her eyes at him. "Eat your damned vegetables, Stark." She emphasized her words by jabbing her fork in his direction.

Fuck maturity. Tony stuck his tongue out at her. "Yes, _Mom._"

Even Steve, stick-in-the-mud that he tended to be, found their banter at least a little funny. Steve smiled at everyone before launching into a narrative about Cloak and Dagger. Tony half-listened to the conversation around him, allowing the emotions and words of his teammates (friends) to encompass him.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he dared to think, _home._


End file.
